


Acquiesce

by OonaKwon



Series: Acquiesce [1]
Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergent, F/M, Fluid Sexuality, Heartbreak, M/M, Mentions: Drug & Alcohol Use, Mentions: Pregnancy & Birth, Military Service, Post-breakup, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-05-06 00:06:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 71,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5395247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OonaKwon/pseuds/OonaKwon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ACQUIESCE<br/>[verb]<br/>to assent tacitly; submit or comply silently or without protest; agree; consent.<br/>Etymology: from Latin acquiescere, from ad-, “to, at” + quiescere, “to rest”. </p><p>Sometimes, there's no point it reeling against your fate, of fighting it. Sometime, you have to acquiesce, you have to accept it. Without protest. You have to consent to it, or you'll be swept away. You'll drown in the undertow of life. Sometimes, you just have to breathe in, breathe out, and be.<br/>future!canon fic set in the years after the MADE tour ends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. VINOLENCY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: there will be smut by the end of this chapter.

 

* * *

 VINOLENCY

_[noun]_

drunkenness; intoxication.

 _Etymology_ : from Latin  _vinolentia._

* * *

_**February 23rd, 2016** _

_**Tokyo, Japan** _

Jiyong sat on the edge of the stage, feet dangling, towel covering his head.

Bae Bae pumped through the speakers for the second time that night; encores were always his favorite. The crowd was desperate, belting out the words, hoping for one more song. Not wanting the show to end, not wanting them to leave.

His rap done and over, he swayed to the sound of Youngbae's voice. He smiled and threw up some hearts for the thousands of cameras focused on him, clicking away in the audience. He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and suppressed a shudder when Seunghyun's voice rumbled across the stage.

You'd think after a year of touring together, he'd be over it. You'd think after nine years performing together, Seunghyun would cease to effect him like this. You'd think after knowing him most of his adult life he'd be over _Seunghyun_ , but he wasn't, and Jiyong had accepted a long time ago that he never would be.

Daesung picked up where Seunghyun left off, and Jiyong hopped to his feet. He casually made his way across the stage to where Seunghyun was harassing Seungri for the enjoyment of the crowd. The maknae was laughing, trying to sputter out his own lines from inside the headlock Seunghyun currently held him in. 

Jiyong laughed as a dancer caught him around the middle and he danced with her for a few beats as they finished up the song, still slowly working his way around the stage towards both his oldest and youngest members.

The sanctioned _Toptory_ fan service still got under his skin, just a little bit. He'd found it funny at first, sending Seunghyun pictures to post on his SNS and laughing about it with Youngbae. Now... It was getting old. If he had to hear Seunghyun call Seungri his 'sexy boy' one more time...

Maybe it wouldn't bother him so badly if the fan service hadn't been given the green light in the middle of their Zutter promotions. He knew it was suppose to be about taking the focus off the time he and Seunghyun were spending together, but he'd thought having a new GD&T.O.P song would at least mean he would be able to look his hyung in the eyes on stage and not have to worry about what people thought of it. He'd thought he'd be able to touch him in front of people again and get to hide it under the ever so convenient umbrella of 'fan service'. 

Lucky for him, _Nyongtory_ was a MADE tour approved couple, too. 

"Seungri-yah!" He called into the mic, "You're going to make hyung jealous." He pouted out his lips, placing a thin hand on his hip.

Seungri extracted himself from the headlock he had supposedly been struggling against with relative ease. Probably all that jujitsu.

"Hey, I'm his hyung, too, you know." 

The fact that Jiyong had to mentally force himself to keep his eyes glued on Seungri when Seunghyun spoke was probably worth mentioning. Instead, he smirked and held a hand out to Seungri, wiggling his fingers enticingly. Seungri made a big show of looking dramatically back and forth between his hyungs as the crowd went wild, shouting out their suggestions on which man he should pick.

He leaned forward toward the crowd conspiratorially and stage whispered, "See, I _told_ you GD-hyung likes me." 

Jiyong laughed, grabbing ahold of Seungri's wrist and tucking him under his arm. "Shut your mouth, Maknae." 

He tugged Seungri across the stage to a barrage of catcalls from the audience, pulled him over to where Youngbae and Daesung were waiting to start the last song, their encore performance of Bang Bang Bang. As the music started, he couldn't help but cast a glance over his shoulder to where they'd left Seunghyun. The eldest's eyes followed them, a curious expression on his face. Jiyong treated him to one last smirk, as much for the crowds benefit as for his own, before releasing Seungri and jumping into the choreography one last time. 

\---

You would think after their last show in Japan that they'd have a big after party or something, but really, they were all kinds of partied out. 

Besides, Yang was already planning a crazy night for the evening of their last concert in Seoul to mark the official end of their tour; and if he was being honest there was nothing Jiyong wanted more than to crawl between the sheets of his overpriced hotel suite's bed and sleep for the next twelve hours.

If there was one thing he appreciated about the suite, it was the spacious bathroom. He leaned over the sink, glaring at his own reflection in the mirror. Smudged eyeliner and blotchy foundation galore. He looked like a mess. He found it funny that his makeup could hold on through a long night on stage and then fall apart the minute he got in the car to escape to the sanctity of his hotel room.

He shoved his hair back into a headband and set to scrubbing his face. He could call a staff member up to his room to help him wind down for the night like the other members most likely had.

Some nights he did.

Some nights, he felt like he never did anything for himself. He didn't cook his own meals, didn't drive his own car, didn't style his own hair. So he took off his own makeup. Something about it made him feel more human, more real. 

Jiyong stepped into the shower; stood under the spray and let the hot water soothe the aches from a long night on stage from his shoulders and back. Some nights after a concert he was so wired he couldn't stand still. Other nights, tonight, he was just tired. Tired, and lonely. 

When he was finished, he wrapped the complementary bathrobe around his slender frame, rubbing at his dark hair with a towel as he spared one last look at the door of his suite. After a moment, he crossed to the television and flicked it on. Turning the volume down low, he pulled the covers back on the bed and went to rummage through his things for a pair of pants to sleep in. Maybe the sound from the television would help him sleep. Maybe this aching feeling of loneliness would ease a bit with the sound of voices in the background.

Maybe.

A knock jerked him out of his own head. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth, staring at the door. It could be anyone, staff, his manager, a crazy fan. He didn't want to get his hopes up.

Crossing to the door, he peered through the peep hole and practically melted with relief. Seunghyun stood on the other side, dressed in jeans, a light jacket, and a long-sleeved tee. He looked freshly groomed, probably having just escaped a staff noona's ministrations in his own suite. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets and he seemed to be studying the swirling pattern of the hallway carpeting.

Jiyong slipped the dead bolt back and opened the door to find Seunghyun gazing at him with the same curious expression he'd worn on stage earlier that night. 

"Hyung?" He asked casually, arching a finely groomed brow at his bandmate. They were good at this, this cultivated indifference. If anyone were to walk down the hall right now, they'd see a mildly curious leader wondering why his colleague was knocking on his door at two o'clock in the morning. 

"Jiyong-ah. Are you going to let me in?" Seunghyun returned.

He smiled and stepped to the side, allowing the elder to step past him into the room.

Seunghyun shrugged his jacket off as he passed, and Jiyong bite down on the inside of his cheek to stifle the tiny noise of excitement that threatened to escape him. It looked like Seunghyun was planning on staying, at least for a bit.

Jiyong closed the door, leaning back against it, letting the cool feeling of the wood through the back of his robe anchor him. He watched as Seunghyun took in the layout of the room.

He laughed softly, "Nine years later and they still give you the bigger room." 

"Hyung.." He breathed out, brows drawing together, perplexed by the elder's attitude. 

"How has your night been?" Seunghyun asked suddenly, cutting him off. He was standing with his back to Jiyong, shoulders tense, head bowed.

"It's been... fine I guess? I mean, the concert.. and I took a shower.." Seunghyun had been with him all day.... this was small talk? He was _chit-chatting_ with him. When Seunghyun turned to face him, Jiyong took a tiny step forward. Cautiously, he looped his arms around the older man's neck, rising up on his toes to press a rather chaste kiss against his lips; an unspoken _'is this okay?'_ hovering in the air between them.

When the elder didn't respond, Jiyong pulled back to see that the curious light in Seunghyun's eyes had been replaced with something a little more unreadable. He frowned, "What's wrong?" 

As if coming back to himself, Seunghyun's gaze zeroed in on Jiyong

"Not a damn thing.."

And suddenly, Jiyong found himself with his back pressed abruptly against the door all over again. Seunghyun's arms tightened around his waist and his lips crashed against his own. Jiyong's hands fluttered through his lover's hair, a startled moan stuttering from his lips.

Every time they'd come together lately, it had been like this. Intense and hurried, like Seunghyun was running away from it as much as he was running towards it. 

Seunghyun whirled him around and backed him into the bed. Jiyong hooked a leg around him and brought him down onto the mattress with him.

Seunghyun's teeth marked the side of Jiyong's neck and his hands scrambled for the tie holding the robe together at Jiyong's waist. 

"Hyung, slow down!" Jiyong gasped. Usually, he was more than happy to take what his hyung was willing to give him, but something about tonight rubbed him the wrong way. He caught Seunghyun's frantic hands between his own, stilling them. He slid a hand up Seunghyun's arm, placing his palm firmly against Seunghyun's chest, holding him at bay as he sat up slowly. He could feel the erratic beat of the elder's heart and he curled his fingers into the fabric of Seunghyun's shirt for a moment. Jiyong slid his hand the rest of the way up to cup his jaw, before carding his fingers through his hair. He leaned forward tentatively, placing small kisses at the corners of Seunghyun's eyes, smoothing the pad of his thumb across the crease between his brows. It had been a long time since they'd been this intimate. He almost felt like he was approaching some kind of woodland animal, afraid if he moved too quickly he'd scare him off. 

"Let _me_ , hyung."

Jiyong slid off the bed, standing before his lover. He smoothed his hands through the elder's hair once more, drawing his face up so he could kiss him, parting his lips to accept Seunghyun's searching tongue. He let his hands trail down until they caught the hem of his shirt. Seunghyun lifting his arms almost obediently as Jiyong drew the shirt over his head, discarding it on the floor. 

Touring took a toll on everyone, Seunghyun included. After such an ambitious tour, Seunghyun was the thinnest Jiyong had ever seen him; save their trainee days when he was practically starving himself. Still, he was beautiful. The fans called him 'Adonis' and Jiyong couldn't fault them. Seunghyun had a tragic sort of perfection about him, ragged and vulnerable. No matter how may times they were together, or ever would be together, if Seunghyun allowed him to, Jiyong would remind him just how beautiful he thought he was. 

"Hyung..." He murmured, letting his fingers splay across his broad shoulders. He pushed him back gently, climbing to straddle his hips. He let his hands burn a path down Seunghyun's body, mouth following in their wake. Kissing the column of his throat, marking his collarbones, lips following the sculpted curve of defined pectorals, a pebbled nipple caught gently between his teeth for a moment before letting his lips brush just barely across each rib. He traced the contours of his abs with his fingertips, relishing in the hiss of air that escaped between Seunghyun's teeth as he loosened the button on his jeans.

Without the press of denim, Seunghyun's cock strained against the fabric of his boxers. Jiyong enjoyed the warmth of it, running his palm lightly up his length through the thin material. He savored the click of Seunghyun's teeth when he slipped his hand past his waistband to touch him, felt the soft, heated skin like velvet against his palm. Jiyong ran a fingertip along the underside of the elder's cock, biting his lip at the shudder that rolled through the man beneath him.

"Jiyong, if you don't stop biting your lip like that you're not going to get this 'slow' thing you keep asking for.." Seunghyun's voice sounded dark and well on its way to undone. 

Jiyong's breath hitched in his throat and to hide the heat pooling in his cheeks he liberated Seunghyun from his boxers, shimmying down to rest between his lover's thighs. Wrapping a hand around the base of Seunghyun's cock he swirled his tongue around the head once, twice, before looking up to meet Seunghyun's eyes. His pupils were blown wide already and his lips parted slightly as he breathed out at the sudden eye contact. 

Jiyong grinned at him. Once he was sure he had his hyung's full attention he locked eyes with him, and swallowed him down. He felt the head of Seunghyun's cock hit the back of his throat and hummed to keep himself from gagging. Hallowing out his checks, he kept up his humming as he began to bob his head up and down in the steady rhythm he knew Seunghyun liked the most. 

Seunghyun's head dropped back, hands fisting in his hair, guiding him. Jiyong let his free hand roam across his hyung's thigh in a soothing gesture. He worked his tongue along the underside of his cock and almost gagged when the elder's hips suddenly canted up into his mouth, fuck, it had been a long time. 

"Jiyong.. _fuck_ , stop!" Seunghyun twisted his grip in Jiyong's hair and Jiyong relished the burn of his scalp as Seunghyun pulled him from his work with a lewd pop. "You're much too good at that. And I'm too tired to put up much of a fight tonight." Jiyong let himself be pulled into his lover's lap, let him capture his lips in a slow, deep kiss. 

He bit back a moan when Seunghyun slipped a hand under his robe and found his own throbbing length. Jiyong whimpered and pressed himself against the curve of Seunghyun's body, peppering hurried kisses along the side of his neck and the sharp line of his jaw.

Soon, the kisses stopped as he became incapable of doing anything more than writhing in Seunghyun's lap. He hips jerking pathetically at every sensation. "Hyung..." He whined, face pressed into the older man's neck. 

"Lube?" Seunghyun asked. 

"Same place it always is." Jiyong replied, still thoroughly glued to his side.

Seunghyun chuckled as he deposited Jiyong on the bed. He crossed the room to rummage through Jiyong's suitcase before returning with the small bottle of personal lubricant. 

Jiyong watched in appreciation as Seunghyun divested himself of his half shod jeans and boxers. He admired the curve of his ass, the play of muscles in his thighs, the way his tanned skin stretched and moved as he climbed back into bed with him. 

Finally, he tugged at the tie around Jiyong's waist, loosening the robe and sliding it down his shoulders with gentle hands. Taking a spare pillow, he placed it under Jiyong's hips before stretching out on the bed along side him.

Just as Jiyong had done, he sat about worshipping the younger's body. 

As a general rule, Seunghyun always said he preferred art hanging on walls and not engrained into people's skin; but like a lot of things in his life, Jiyong seemed to be the exception. Seunghyun often told him that he liked his tattoos because they provided a road map of sorts for him to follow.

He always started with the one on his shoulder, his birth date. Jiyong shivered as Seunghyun flattened his tongue against the place where it began, on the tip of his shoulder, and laved a trail up the length of his neck. 

Seunghyun traced the dragonball with the tip of his tongue, his fingertips dancing across the 'Forever Young' etched into his side. Jiyong knotted his fists in Seunghyun's hair, and the elder turned his head to the side to drop a kiss to the heart that adorned his forearm before claiming his lips in a bruising press. 

Seunghyun's lips left his and Jiyong closed his eyes as his warm breath fanned across his rib cage. Another sweep of the tongue over the 'Mind Control' tattoo on his opposite side, two quick kisses dropped to the 'X's above his navel. His body was singing a tune all its own and his breath came fast, but it caught in his throat when he heard the click of the bottle being opened. 

"You ready?" Seunghyun's rich baritone sounded husky with desire and Jiyong's answer was practically a sob,

" _Fuck_ , yes."

His hips bucked up off the pillow as the first cool, slick digit circled his entrance. How long had it been? Two weeks? Three? He couldn't remember. The harsh, gasp like moan that tore from his throat when Seunghyun finally pushed past the tight ring of muscle was lost in a soft 'shhhh' from Seunghyun. He relaxed into the feeling of intrusion as Seunghyun ran his free hand up and down his arm soothingly, his thumb brushing across the crown inked into his skin repeatedly.

"More." Jiyong whispered. Now that he was acclimated, it wasn't enough. Seunghyun added a second finger and Jiyong groaned.

"So tight..." Seunghyun whispered into his ear, catching one of his piercings between his teeth, tugging on the silver loop just slightly.

Jiyong felt himself clench around Seunghyun's fingers. He never ceased to marvel at how his hyung could pull such involuntary reactions out of him with just his words. His back arched as Seunghyun suddenly picked up the pace, thrusting his fingers in and out, spreading and twisting his fingers, working his body open.

"Ahhh, Seunghyun..  _fuck_!" His hands scrambled for purchase, catching the headboard, palms flattening against it. "Hyung!"

His cock strained upwards. He could feel it brushing against his stomach, painting a streak of precum in its wake. Seunghyun's fingers trailed down his side again, skirting across his rib cage and tattoo a second time before coming to grip his hip harshly as a third finger was added. Jiyong hissed through his teeth, both at the bruising pressure on his hip and the stinging stretch of the extra digit. 

"Damn it, Jiyong.." Seunghyun growled, teeth scrapping along his adam's apple.  If Jiyong didn't know better, he would have swore he was angry. He shuddered at the thought, desire ripping through him much too suddenly. 

"Hyung, I need you! I-I'm ready!" He managed.

Seunghyun swore again, softer this time, thrusting his fingers farther than he had before,

"Not yet.." Seunghyun curled his fingers and a few thrusts later his questing fingers found what they were looking for, that smooth bundle of nerves that had Jiyong seeing stars. 

"Hyung!" He threw his head back, brought the back of his hand to his mouth to muffle his cries.

"Hmm?" Seunghyun murmured darkly in his ear. "What was that?"

"Seunghyun," Jiyong whimpered, Seunghyun twisted his fingers inside him, exerting exquisite pressure that had Jiyong close to coming all on its own. " _Oppa_!"

"So beautiful when you beg..." His dark tone was colored with amusement and desire now. Jiyong remembered when they were younger and he use to call him oppa in public just to see him blush. He couldn't remember the last time he'd said it and he wasn't being sarcastic. 

Jiyong fell apart under his hyung's strong hands, "I'm begging, I'll beg!" He cried out, "Oppa, please, I _need_ you!" 

"Need _what_ , Jiyong?" That was another sometime quirk of Seunghyun's, his occasional need for domination. It was almost good for Jiyong, balancing out his forceful personality in everything outside their relationship. He savored it, actually, this being made to submit to his hyung. He found that he craved it, even. "Oppa doesn't know, you have to _tell_ him."

"You," Jiyong sobbed, "Your cock. To fuck me. Just, please. _Please_." The pleads kept coming, even as Seunghyun withdrew his fingers and set about coating his cock with the lubricant. Jiyong didn't even know _what_ he was asking for anymore, all he knew is that the words wouldn't stop, they didn't stop, not until he found himself full to the hilt with Seunghyun. 

Suddenly quiet, his breath scraping against his raw throat, Jiyong lay beneath Seunghyun. His arms wrapped around Seunghyun's neck in a relentlessly tight grip as he tried not to drown in the sensations filling him up, surrounding him. Face buried against the planes of his chest, he breathed in Seunghyun's cologne, his breath still coming in hiccuping, ragged half-sobs.

"You can move now." He whispered, hips rolling up to meet the other's thrusts. Soon, their steady rhythm became more erratic and Jiyong found himself pleading anew, this time his murmurs bordered on unintelligible.

Seunghyun griped his hips keeping him still as he thrust into him, hard and fast. Jiyong's moans mingle with Seunghyun's grunts, the sound of sweat soaked skin-against-skin at odds with the noise still coming from the television set across the room. 

Guiding a leg over his shoulder, Seunghyun angled his thrusts so that the blunt head of his cock made contact with Jiyong's already abused prostate. Jiyong jerked and groaned beneath his lover. 

"Do you like it?" He asked. "I like it." Seunghyun laughed out loud at the face Jiyong made at his awful joke. "Do you, though?" He asked again, voice husky, almost worried. 

Jiyong nodded, caught up in the feeling of heat curling inside his stomach. His orgasm was just out of reach if he could _just_...

"Say it." Seunghyun demanded, stopping his stroke short of hitting Jiyong's prostate. " _Say_ it." 

"I like it! It feels.. Oh _fuck_ , Seunghyun, I like it." Jiyong threw a hand back up to muffle his cries as Seunghyun picked up where he left off, striking his prostate and causing his eyes to roll back in his head. Seunghyun pulled his hands away from his mouth, pinned them above his head.

"I want to hear." 

A few more thrust and Jiyong was an absolute mess beneath him. "Seunghyun, I-" 

"Now?" 

Jiyong groaned in response, arching his back up off the mattress. Seunghyun reached between them, gliding his hand along Jiyong's length, flicking his thumb across the head with each pass. 

" _Oppa_ , fuck!" Jiyong cried out, the coil of heat in his stomach unwound abruptly and his come coated Seunghyun's fist. Jiyong clenched around him. The combination of his voice, his face, and Seunghyun comes undone as well. He picked up the pace, fucking into the overly sensitive man beneath him, feeling him clench and unclench, a shaking mess. 

Jiyong felt Seunghyun's fingers on his chin, turning his face towards his. Forcing his face up, his eyes to meet his. 

"Ji..." He groaned, "Jiyong," he tried again, gasping out, "I love you." 

Jiyong's heart stumbled in his chest as he felt Seunghyun come deep inside him. Damp forehead pressed against his hyung's, he whispered back,

"I love you, too, Seunghyun."

\---

Jiyong lay in bed, sides heaving, nerves humming like an orchestra tuning up for a particularly difficult symphony.

He wished that the sound of the shower, muffled by the walls and dulled by the quiet voices still coming from the TV, was enough to drown out the rush of the thoughts in his head.

Just...what the fuck?

They didn't _say_ 'I love you'.

They hadn't in years.

At least Seunghyun hadn't. Jiyong had given up on trying. Not since their last world tour. Not since Seunghyun decided that their relationship wasn't _worth it_. 

He felt the prickly heat of tears behind his eyes and swore at himself. The last thing he needed was Seunghyun to come back in here and see him crying like an absolute idiot. 

What the fuck? 

Two years ago he wouldn't have doubted that Seunghyun loved him. One year ago he would have maybe felt hopeful at the prospect of Seunghyun still loving him. Now... 

Since when was he anything more than an easy lay to him?  

He remembered vividly the night Seunghyun had practically ended him. 

It was a week after the last night of their Alive tour. They were deeper in their relationship than they had ever been before, so deep that Yang was afraid that it would show on stage, so they had been told to stay apart. The separation on stage was starting to seep into their off stage lives and Jiyong had never been so happy to have a tour end. He was planning a vacation just for him and Seunghyun. Maybe somewhere in Eastern Europe. Maybe somewhere in the States. Maybe Canada. Who cared? He had just wanted to go somewhere where they wouldn't be recognized.

Where they could be together. 

He'd been lounging on his couch, contemplating a bath when his phone had rang. He remembered how his smile had been automatic upon seeing Seunghyun's name. He remembered how warmly he'd answered the phone and how coldly Seunghyun had responded. 

"We need to talk."

Honestly, it had played out like a bad drama. 

He'd gotten a speech about how it wasn't him, it was Seunghyun's own hang ups, that he couldn't justify the risks they were taking anymore. He couldn't continue to risk both of their careers for a relationship that wasn't going anywhere, anyway. He needed to move on. He needed space and he didn't want Jiyong to contact him anymore. Relay messages through their managers and keep it professional. _Infatuation_ , he'd said. Distance would make Jiyong realize that this wasn't love. He was bored, he'd said. Their relationship was boring and stressful and he could get the same thing from someone who he could walk down the street with. It was over.

That was the second time in Jiyong's life he felt like dying. If it wasn't for Seungri he might have. 

Seunghyun must have called him because the youngest showed up on Jiyong's doorstep, pounding on the door and demanding to be let in not even half an hour later. 

"He's an ass, an absolute ass. He doesn't mean it, Jiyong-ah, he'll come around." He should be embarrassed that he'd spent the next two days in bed with Seungri, face smashed into the tear stained shoulder of his dongsaeng's shirt, too drunk to care that he was the leader and that Seungri shouldn't be the one holding him. 

Three years of solo promotions, movies, CFs, TV appearances, and solitude followed.

Sure there had been nights when they'd found themselves at the same club, at the same party, on the same stage. There had been nights when their eyes met and the hope in Jiyong's chest practically choked him. There had been nights of falling into bed together and waking up alone. Of not talking about it the next day no matter how much the words tore at his throat. 

He'd given up on Seunghyun a long time ago. Until their comeback. Until he was spending every day with him in a studio writing songs, recording tracks, falling into bed together more often than not. 

He never asked what they were. He was afraid of the answer. Afraid that if he tried to pin their relationship down and define it that Seunghyun would run from him again. 

He'd broken up with Kiko. 

Kiko who'd kept him together and distracted over the last few years. Kiko who'd given him someone to focus on, to shower with affection and keep him company. She hadn't deserved the way he'd treated her, the inattention and frustration. She knew about Seunghyun, of course. His relationship with her had begun as a front for his relationship with Seunghyun. After Seunghyun left him, she had become a shoulder for him to lean on and then she had become something more.

He loved her, felt a burning fondness in his chest when he heard her voice.

He loved Seunghyun more. 

Loving Seunghyun was something akin to alcoholism for him. He knew it was bad for him, but he couldn't get over his need for him. He was intoxicated by him, overpowered. Helpless.

The shower shut off and Jiyong grabbed the comforter, pulling it over himself, curling onto his side and pretending to sleep. 

"Jiyong?" 

This is the part where Seunghyun leaves.

He couldn't watch him leave after tonight.

Seunghyun's hand smoothed through Jiyong's hair and he felt lips brush against his forehead. 

There was that burn of tears again. It was pathetic how much he treasured the least bit of affection from Seunghyun, how he guarded each memory like jewels in his mind. Taking them out to marvel over them and analyze them in the quiet of his home.

The mattress dipped and he felt one stubborn tear drip off the side of his nose as Seunghyun's arms wrapped around him. His body fit perfectly into the curve of the other's and he sighed, letting himself sink back into Seunghyun's warmth.

Jiyong felt Seunghyun press his nose into his hair and inhale the scent of his shampoo. 

He slowly reached up and rested his hand on the nape of Seunghyun's neck. He turned his body slightly, pressed his lips to the curve of his jaw and then to his lips.

"You're awake?" 

"I am now."

Maybe he'd regret it in the morning, but tonight he was going to soak up every minute with Seunghyun that the universe was willing to give him.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics in chapter image from Just One Yesterday (feat. Foxes) - Fall Out Boy  
> Come see me on tumblr [hoseokie-jung ❤︎](http://hoseokie-jung.tumblr.com/)


	2. DOLENT

* * *

  _DOLENT_

_[adjective]_

_1\. sad; sorrowful._

_Etymology: from Old French dolent, from Latin dolēns, present participle of doleō,“to grieve”._

* * *

Seunghyun lay across his bed, feet dangling from one end, head from the other. The sound of his own blood pounding in his ears as it pooled in his face mingled with the explosions coming from the surround sound system. The action movie he'd had his manger rent for him played on, oblivious to his inattention. He thought it was American but what did he know? Everyone was speaking in really terrible British accents and there was an actress who's character was suppose to be Japanese but she was Chinese, so yeah, probably American.

His own face reflected up at him from the side of an overturned wine bottle on the floor, distorted and pained. He couldn't tell whether the flush to his features come from the two bottles of wine he'd consumed so far or the fact that his face was currently waging a war with gravity. It was probably both, but he didn't really care. 

His face was starting to throb.

He laid there a bit longer, mumbling half thought out rhymes to the beat of his own heart. When spots started to form before his eyes he sighed and rolled onto the bed. He lounged back against his pillows, eyes automatically drawn to the screen at the foot of his bed. When he'd had it installed, Jiyong had told him having a television in his bedroom was tacky. He remembered the younger man's pout, the way he'd grabbed Jiyong around the middle and kissed those gorgeous lips until they were smiling again, how he'd whispered in his ear all the fun things they could do with a television in his room, how Jiyong had shoved him away with a snort, "I take it back," he'd declared. "You're tacky even without the TV, so what's a little more?" But Seunghyun had seen the small smile he was trying to hide and remembered clearly the amused glint in his eyes.. 

Seunghyun grabbed the remote from his bedside table, inching the volume up a few clicks past what was socially acceptable. Wasn't that the point of all this? All the wine and the gunfire and the pounding in his head? To keep him uncomfortable and on edge? To keep his brain in a constant state of panic, drenched in stressors and adrenaline and alcohol. He didn't allow himself peace. He couldn't. Peace meant silence and comfort, and silence and comfort meant he was free to relax, free to think. As he'd learned in the past, being free to think meant Jiyong.  

He snatched his empty wine glass and the newly opened bottle from the table next to the remote and poured himself another drink. He obviously wasn't drunk enough if Kwon Jiyong had managed to worm his way into his thoughts twice already in the last ten minutes. Three times? Did that last time even count since he wasn't _actually_ thinking about Jiyong, he was just thinking about how he shouldn't be thinking about him...

The morning after their last night in Japan could have been worse. He didn't know why he stayed, except that his head and his heart had been full of Jiyong and he had _wanted_ to stay. He hadn't been willing to break the spell yet. That really wasn't a reason, though. He wanted a lot of things, that didn't mean he had to have them. 

When he'd awoken to watery sunlight and the sounds of a shower running he'd remembered where he was, and he'd felt the regret crash down on him in waves. He'd thought about slipping out while the younger man was in the shower, but that seemed pathetic. He hadn't quite made up his mind when the bathroom door slid open. The water shutting off hadn't registered, as lost as he was in his own head.

Jiyong stepped out, lounge pants slung low on slender hips marked by Seunghyun's own fingers, the bruising a dusky purple against his pale skin. Jiyong flashed him a tentative smile, 

"Are you going to lay around in bed all day?" He asked, the low chuckle emanating from his throat sounded just as nervous and unsure as Seunghyun felt, so at least there was that. 

Seunghyun cleared his throat, "Ah," he slid his feet out of bed, picking his discarded shirt up from the floor to pull it over his head. "What time does the plane leave?"

"A little after noon." Jiyong replied, pausing momentarily in the act of putting toothpaste on his toothbrush to answer him. 

Seunghyun glanced at the clock, 9:00am. He grabbed his jeans and tugged them on. He cleared his throat again, dammit.

"I better get back... Before someone realizes I'm not in my room..."

Jiyong's eyes met his in the mirror and he frowned momentarily around his toothbrush, before removing it from his mouth to spit in the sink.

Seunghyun grabbed his jacket from the chair by the door, reaching for the knob as he did. Jiyong's hand shot out, closing around his wrist, the same frown still tugging down the corners of his lips. Their eyes met again and against his better judgement Seunghyun pulled Jiyong to his side. He dropped a quick kiss to his hair,  "See you on the plane." He murmured, before opening the door and escaping out into the hall.

He stalked down the corridor, punching the 'down' button on the elevator with more force than was necessary. The doors opened quietly and he stepped inside, the doors closing on his groan of frustration, effectively cutting it and him off from the rest of the world. He glared at his reflection in the shiny metal of the elevator doors, eyes taking in his disheveled hair, his rumpled clothes, and the singular, tiny blemish on the column of his throat. He gazed at the small bruise, thinking about how long it had been since Jiyong had physically marked him for the whole world to see. His frustration grew as he stared at the bite, until finally he was lashing out at his own reflection, his palm making a dull ringing sound in the small space of the elevator. 

The door opened moments later to reveal a startled maid looking at him with wide, surprised eyes. "Top-san!" She squeaked, bowing low.

"I just had to ask Jiyong, _-GD_ ," he quickly corrected himself, "a question before we left." He muttered in his painfully weak Japanese, stepping around her with a bow if his own "Excuse me."

He wasn't sure _why_ he felt like he owed the maid an explanation for his presence in the elevator, it was a perfectly acceptable time to be up and moving around. 

He turned the corner into the wing where his suite was located, rounding it just as Youngbae stepped out of his own rooms across the hall, carry-on in hand. He frowned at him and Seunghyun frowned right back. He didn't need his particular brand of judgement today.

Youngbae spoke as Seunghyun dug through his pocket for his key card.

"You broke up with him." He said, reminding Seunghyun; as if he could forget the greatest performance of his life. 

"I know." He replied, swiping his card and closing the door on his bandmate...

A knock sounded on his bedroom door, his real one, not the one in his head, and Seunghyun struggled to surface from the mire of the past.

There were only four people in the entire universe with the guts to enter his home unannounced; his mother, his manager, Daesung, and Jiyong.

And even though Jiyong hadn't shown up at the villa without warning in awhile, it would be just like the younger man to materialize at the exact moment Seunghyun was struggling under the weight of their relationship, attempting to drown his thoughts of him in red wine.

He glanced at his balcony, trying to decide if it was Jiyong, would a fall from that height kill him or just knock him out so he wouldn't have to have this conversation right now. His rational side, trying to speak to him through the fog in his brain, told him he was being ridiculous but it needn't have worried. The bedroom door opened just a crack,

"Seunghyun-hyung?" Daesung called out tentatively.

"Dae..." Seunghyun sighed with relief as his junior pushed the door the rest of the way open. His eyes took in the empty wine bottles along with the uncorked one on the table before releasing a sigh of his own. Crossing the room, he slid into bed beside Seunghyun. Taking the wine glass from his hyung's fingers, he took a sip before placing it on the opposite table. 

Seunghyun fumbled with the remote, suddenly embarrassed by how high the volume was as Daesung settled against the headboard.

"What are you doing, hyung?" He asked.

"Getting drunk. Watching TV." Seunghyun frowned. Maybe he didn't want to have this conversation either. 

"No, I mean what are you _doing? Why?_ " Daesung knocked his knee against Seunghyun's; companionable, imploring.

"I dunno." Seunghyun shrugged. "Just don't wanna think."

"Hyung.."

"Have you seen Jiyong?" Seunghyun asked, cutting off whatever he was going to say. "Since we got back, have you seen him?" He hadn't since they landed, where he'd watched his petite form disappear into a YG van for probably the ten millionth time in his life.

"Yeah, I had lunch with him the other day. He wants to start working on some songs for a solo album for me. Said its been too long since I promoted in Korea."

"Oh." Seunghyun frowned, glancing at his discarded phone. He hadn't gotten so much as a text message from Jiyong, let alone a lunch invite. 

"Why?" Daesung asked, his tone sympathetic.

"I dunno." Seunghyun mumbled again, "Just curious, I guess."

"Hyung," Daesung started again, "What are you _doing?_ With Jiyong, I mean"

Seunghyun jerked at the question, "What? I'm not allowed to ask a question about our leader? Our friend?"

"Seunghyun..."

"I don't _know_ , Dae!" He could feel his buzz rapidly fading away and he buried his face in his hands, "I don't know..."

"Do you want to get back together? _Are_ you back together?" 

Seunghyun snorted, it still amazed him that he could have this kind of conversation with Daesung. He remembered fear of his rejection being one of his biggest obstacles in pursuing his feeling for Jiyong in the beginning. 

It was on a night like this, in their dorm with him too drunk to even see straight and Dae being much too kind that he'd confessed the width and breadth of his feeling for their leader to his best friend and begged him not to hate him. Daesung had been shocked at first, but had quickly reassured him that he could never hate him.

"Love is love." He'd said. "The way I see it, God wouldn't have created human beings with the ability to fall in love with members of the same sex if he didn't intend for it to play out that way sometimes. The Lord created love, so how can it be bad? I don't see how. _Do_ you love him??" He'd asked, and that was that. 

"I just want him to be happy." He'd said then, and he said it again now.

"What about _you_ , Seunghyun?" Daesung asked, "You can't keep doing this to yourself. You can't keep avoiding the world because he's out there in it. If you refuse to be with him, you have to learn to at least live in the same universe as him." 

"I can't."

"Can't what?" 

"I just can't! I can't be with him, but I can't be around him and _not be with him_."

"Seunghyun," Daesung nudged him again, "you need to end this. You need to make decision, a real decision. Yes or no. Have him or don't. You guys can't keep dancing around each other like this forever."

Seunghyun flinched at his words like they were physical blows, but he nodded along knowing he was right. 

"You say that you love him, that you just want him to be happy? Do you think _this_ makes him happy? This push and pull?" Seunghyun shook his head, feeling for all the world like a child bring reprimanded; feeling on some level that he deserved it.

"So make him happy! Be with him. Or let him go. For real this time. How is he suppose to move on and be happy when he's so stuck on you? You know, I think the only person he's really loved in his entire life is you, simply because he can't let go. You can't let go. You're like magnets or something, constantly pulling on each other. You need to move far enough away that he can't be drawn back to you, or you to him. You two are stalled, stagnant. You need forward momentum. Just _move_ , together or apart. You need to pick, Seunghyun, no more of this in-between stuff. All or nothing."

"All or nothing.." Seunghyun repeated, struggling to breathe around the heavy feeling in his heart. "Dae?"

"Yeah?"

"You're a good friend." 

The younger man smiled, leaning his head on Seunghyun's shoulder,

"I know." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics in chapter image from What A Catch, Donnie - Fall Out Boy  
> Come see me on tumblr [hoseokie-jung ❤︎](http://hoseokie-jung.tumblr.com/)


	3. OMINOUS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay between chapters. I had a really clear picture of where I wanted this chapter to go and it just kind of... got away from me? I considered scrapping it so many times but I just sort of powered through it until it came full circle and I achieved the angle I was after. I'm still not 100% in love with it and the writing style is a bit ??? In any case, next chapter will be much more true to form. Sorry if I fudged the Jiko timeline a bit, I tried to be as accurate as possible while staying true to the spirit of the story. Basically this chapter is meant to be Seunghyun reflecting back on all the reasons he ended his relationship with Jiyong to begin with. Hope you enjoy!! - Annie

* * *

 

_OMINOUS_

_[adjective]_

_1\. portending evil or harm; foreboding; threatening; inauspicious._

_2\. indicating the nature of a future event, for good or evil; having the significance of an omen; being a portent._

_Etymology: from Latin ōminōsus, “portentous”, equivalent to ōmin- (stem of ōmen), “omen; augury; foreboding”._

* * *

 Daesung left in the early hours of the morning, but his words stayed with Seunghyun for the rest of the day.

He had a schedule to keep that day, a trip to YG to meet up with his staff before heading out for a photoshoot he was doing for Nylon, followed by dinner with his agent to look over some of his more recent movie offers.

He dressed casually, grabbing his bag just as his manager text him to let him know he was waiting outside. As he sat in the passenger seat of the luxury sedan watching the city roll past, his mind began to wander.

_You need to end this. You need to make decision, a real decision. Yes or no. Have him or don’t. You guys can’t keep dancing around each other like this forever…_

Forehead pressed against the tinted glass, Seunghyun thought back on _why_. All the little moments, all the reasons he’d decided that he and Jiyong couldn’t be together anymore, did they really matter anymore?..

* * *

Seunghyun combed his fingers through Jiyong’s hair. He hated to admit it, but he was right there with the rest of the country, completely obsessed with his boyfriend’s new hairstyle. The populace had taken to calling it ‘seaweed hair’. He’d already seen a handful of parodies on talk shows. For some reason, the one long section in the front, often accented by vividly colorful extensions, set off Jiyong’s striking facial features in a way their stylists hadn’t managed before. On his worst days, he was stunning. On his best, he made Seunghyun ache.

Their newest music video for the Alive album was taking the nation by storm. The two men had spent an evening together, simply enjoying one another after weeks surrounded by other people. Jiyong’s head rested against his shoulder, his legs tangled with Seunghyun’s under the covers.

Fantastic Baby had been a blast to shoot, but Seunghyun still found that he was partial to the music videos for Blue and Bad Boy. New York was a place he always enjoyed visiting. It was huge, full of different cultures, art of all forms, and people from so many different walks of life. The first time he visited he’d gone to a club with friends. He remembered clearly receiving quite a shock in the form of a lesbian couple drunkenly making out in a booth off the main dance floor. His friend had laughed and shrugged, apparently it wasn’t a big deal.

Of course this was before Jiyong, before he’d even begun to figure out why all his relationships with women seemed to fall flat. He’d practically forgotten about the incident until their most recent trip, when an antsy Jiyong wasn’t content to sit in their hotel room and begged Seunghyun to take him out shopping. They’d already done the New York shopping thing, so Seunghyun decided to make it more interesting. Laughing, they’d snuck out of the hotel in the early hours of the morning between the two video shoots, a quick note saying they were going out and to not expect them back until late in the evening. They were meant to be resting, but they rented a car and drove. No make up, plain clothes, a hat pulled low to hide the vibrant shade of Seunghyun’s hair.

They drove and drove. They mimed their way through language barriers, giggling together as they counted out American money for the toll booths. The cash they’d withdrawn to avoid leaving too much of a trail burning a hole in their pockets, begging to be spent.

A few hours later they found themselves having crossed the entirety of New Jersey, spending a small fortune in tolls in the process, entering Pennsylvania. It might seem like a lot of effort for one measly shopping trip, but the farther they were from where American VIPs expected them to be, the easier it would be for them to go about unrecognized. After all, who was looking for two Korean Popstars in Pennsylvania?

Philadelphia was an interesting city. The architecture was quintessential New England, very old world German. Not something Seunghyun ever got to see back home. They ended up joining the crowds of early afternoon tourists, shopping plans abandoned. They followed guided tours, exploring pieces of American history that honestly meant close to nothing to them, simply enjoying doing it together.

Closer to mid afternoon, they found themselves being shuttled along the halls of the Philadelphia Museum of Art, people pressing in on all sides. Ahead of them, a couple stood. The shorter man had his arm wrapped around the waist of the taller, and the taller man dropped a distracted kiss to the shorter’s hair, running his fingers through it distractedly as he read a placard on the wall.

Seunghyun glanced around him, but no one seemed to be paying the couple any mind. His eyes darted to Jiyong, who was gazing down at his phone consulting he map he’d pulled up, trying to find them a decent place to eat lunch. His bottom lip was nestled between his teeth and that distinctive wrinkle had worked its way across the bridge of his nose, his face scrunched up in thought.

Seunghyun wanted nothing more in that moment than to kiss him, but he wasn’t an idiot. No matter where they were, no matter how far from home, as long as they remained who they were, he would never risk their careers for a few fleeting seconds of passion. A kiss was too much. But maybe…

Seunghyun reached out and took Jiyong’s free hand. He laced his fingers through Jiyong’s and the other looked up at him in surprise, glancing about them like Seunghyun had done just moments before, looking to make sure they weren’t being watched.

Seunghyun tugged him closer, until they were shoulder to shoulder. He leaned over Jiyong’s phone, pretending he was consulting the tiny map as well, but really he couldn’t read a damn thing since it was in English and damn _tiny_.

“Relax, Ji.” He whispered, running his thumb soothingly across the younger man’s wrist, “It’s okay.”

Jiyong remained wound tight, eyes darting around them, looking like he was going to pull away from him at any second. Seunghyun’s heart ached, but he retained a firm grip on the smaller man’s hand, walking with him through the crowd, cracking jokes and pointing out interesting works of art.

Minutes passed, slowly Jiyong began to relax. The tension drained from his shoulders and he stopped looking over his shoulder like he felt the invisible ghosting of a rifle sight sliding along his shoulder blades. He moved a bit closer to Seunghyun, looking up at him. “No ones looking at us.” He whispered, sounding both in awe and a bit like he thought saying it out loud might break the spell and people would start jeering at them at any second.

“I told you, it’s okay.” Seunghyun whispered back, smiling down at him. His heart stuttered in his chest when the younger man grinned up at him before tucking himself under his arm with a contended sigh.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to be able to walk around like this with you, Seunghyun.” He laughed quietly, shaking his head.

“Me too, Ji.”

He thought back on that moment now, lying in his own bed back home in Korea. Back where his relationship didn’t exist past certain barriers, where their love could only thrive in the privacy of their own homes, in bought and paid for rooms in dark clubs and secluded restaurants with security guarding the doors, in the company of only their closest, most trusted friends.

“Ji..” He murmured, breaking the silence they’d been languishing in.

“Hm?”

“Would you ever.. Would you ever want to move to the states?” He asked, trying to keep his tone casual.

“What?"Jiyong asked, raising up on his elbow to better see Seunghyun’s face, obviously bemused, "No. Why?”

He tried not to let his heart sink at the way Jiyong immediately answered no. What could be say? That he’d been lost in his head for days now, planning a future with a man who was harder to pin down than the wind? They hadn’t even begun to discuss the future yet, whether or not their plans included each other or in what capacity. How could he tell him he’d been imagining a life with him by his side, in a world where Jiyong could still be somebody and be his at the same time?

Instead he says “They’d love you there..” Seunghyun lifted a hand a let the pads of his fingers skim down the line of the younger man’s jaw.

Jiyong quirked an eyebrow at him, “They love me _here_.” He laughed at the incredulous look on Seunghyun’s face “Well _most_ of them love me.”

“You could be huge in America. A true international star. A whole new stage for you to play on.”

“I’m already huge.” Jiyong smirked down at him. Seunghyun rolled his eyes, pulling him back down into this arms.

“You know what I mean, jagi…”

“Hyung..”'Jiyong pressed his face into Seunghyun’s bare chest, the older man shuddered at the brush of lips against his sternum. “Seunghyun, really, I don’t have any desire to leave Korea. It’s my home. Korea made me. If it wasn’t for Korea, I wouldn’t even _be_ G-Dragon. I wouldn’t be lying in this bed right now, with you, talking about moving away. I’m fine right where I am.”

“Don’t worry about it, Ji. I was just thinking out loud. I wasn’t serious.”

“I know.” Jiyong rolled off him back onto his side of the bed, “now go to sleep. We have to be at the studio pretty early in the morning.”

“Yes, Kwon Leader!” Seunghyun teased, earning himself a smack to the shoulder followed by a soft “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Jiyong.”

* * *

Dinner with his family was something Seunghyun always made time for. Traveling to his mother’s house, eating her cooking, visiting with Hye Yoon. It served to balance him, give him a new perspective. Usually.

This dinner, however, was special. His noona was getting married.

His soon to be brother-in-law seemed nervous around him and his sister kept telling him to 'stop looking so scary!’.

And his mother, his beloved Umma, she was already wedding crazy.

“Seunghyun, Hye Yoon isn’t that much older than you. Maybe you should start thinking about your future, too? I can’t stand the thought of you in that big house all alone.”

“Umma, I like living alone. I’m around people all day long. Alone is _good_ for me.” He wasn’t alone. Not always. Jiyong was there every second he could be. It wasn’t like he could explain _that_ to his mother, though.

“You like being alone _now_ , but what about later? You should find a nice girl, get married. Children will take care of you when you’re old. I wouldn’t worry about you so much if you had a wife at home, if you had a responsible son or a devoted daughter to look after you when I’m gone!” His mother sniffed dramatically, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with a dish cloth.

“Umma..” Seunghyun patted her on the shoulder awkwardly, at a loss for what to say.

“What did you do to her, Hyunnie?” Hye Yoon asked, entering the kitchen fiancé in tow.

“Me? It was you!” Seunghyun accused, “you and your wedding. She’s afraid I’m going to die alone or something.” He chuckled.

“It’s not funny!” His mother wailed, “I worry about you. I worry about all five of you boys. None of you are getting any younger, you know!”

“Umma!” He laughed again, “Seungri is only 22.”

His mother huffed, joining Hye Yoon at the stove as they began to transfer dishes to the table.

“Speaking of children, I saw Jiyong on television awhile back.” Seunghyun raised a brow, wondering how that equated to children. “He was with that child at the hospital. The one who shares his name? He’s going to make a wonderful father someday.” She looked up at Seunghyun with pleading eyes, “At least tell me that _he_ has a proper girlfriend?”

“No.” Seunghyun muttered, “he doesn’t. Umma, we don’t really have time to meet people.”

She waved a hand at him flippantly, “Mention it to CEO Yang. I’m sure he’d introduce you to some nice girls. It’s probably safer that way, really. Less likely to meet someone who’s just sniffing around you for money or fame if it’s arranged for you.”

“ _Umma_. I’m not asking my _boss_ to set me up on dates!” He whined, “besides, I’m not really interested in dating right now. And I don’t think Jiyong is, either.” By now he was more than desperate to change the subject.

“Oh, now I know _that’s_ not true!” His mother scoffed, “I remember every interview you five have ever done. That boy was barely past 20 when he was going on about wanting to get married as soon as possible on national television. Entertainment Weekly, I believe. Talking about how he wanted to build a home with the person he loved and have a child. No, if he found the right person I’m sure Jiyong-ah would settle down in a heart beat. Speaking of settling down, his latest music video, that _one of a kind_ thing, well wasn’t that something? Wasn’t it, Yoonie?”

And then she was off like a shot, discussing his boyfriend's new music video, unaware of the havoc she had just unintentionally set loose on her son’s heart. Now that he thought about, Jiyong _did_ talk about getting married a lot and he always said that he wanted to get married soon. He always talked about having a wife and children and about building a home for his someday family.

He never talked to to Seunghyun about these things, though.

Seunghyun couldn’t help but remember his decisive 'no’ the night he’d asked him if he’d ever want to move to the states. Maybe the idea didn’t appeal to him because he’d never thought about it the way Seunghyun had. Maybe he’d never thought about how he could possibly have a future with Seughyun because he did see him there. Maybe he never talked about his future, his future marriage and family, with Seunghyun because he didn’t plan on Seunghyun being a part of his plans…

* * *

Dinner was take out on paper plates and usually Seunghyun loved the normalcy of it. It was grounding. They could have gone out to a five star restaurant, or called in a private chef to cook for them. Instead, Jiyong ordered from the tiny shop down the street, going to pick it up himself, scaring the teenage girl who worked the counter half to death in the process. No matter how many times he walked through the front door, the poor thing would squeak and fall over herself to great him. Seunghyun fancied that she was a bit in love with him.

“Maybe one of these days I’ll sweep her off her feet.” Jiyong always teased whenever Seunghyun brought it up.

“Maybe you will.”

* * *

One thing he loved about his relationship with Jiyong was how self-sufficient they could be. They had to be. There would be stretches of time where they wouldn’t see each other privately for months. They learned to exist on lingering touches, on stolen kisses in dark corners and in the backseats of cars. There were days where even when they did have free time, they still had things they had to do. So they learned to function as a couple together as well as apart. They learned to find ways to be together and still get the things they needed to do done.

Which is how he found himself in Jiyong’s apartment late at night. The only light in the room coming from the lamp on the table next to him and Jiyong’s laptop. Silence surrounding them, broken only by the scratch of paper as Seunghyun turned a page in the script he was reviewing and by the keystrokes and quiet humming that narrated Jiyong’s work.

Jiyong sat on his couch, legs crossed underneath him, laptop balanced on short clad thighs. Barefooted and bare faced, sporting a tank top Seunghyun was fairly certain he had owned since they were trainees judging by its threadbare stature. Headphones covered his ears and his face shone in the light from the screen before him. More keystrokes, a couple of clicks, and Seunghyun watched his eyes slide shut as he concentrated on the music, listening for whatever minute adjustment he’d made to the track he was working on. His hair was pushed back in a headband, sticking up in ways that would have been comical if it wasn't so endearing.

“Are you going to stare at me all day or are you going to come over here and kiss me, Hyung?”

Seunghyun jumped, realizing too late that Jiyong was looking at him as well, grinning as the older man flushed at being caught. Seunghyun dogearred the page he was on before tossing it onto the side table. Rising slowly from his chair, he stretched his arms above his head relishing the crack in his spine, before sliding onto the couch next to Jiyong. He smoothed his hands across the younger man’s shoulders, leaning forward to press his lips against his in a chaste kiss. Jiyong huffed out a small laugh, wrapping his arms around the older’s neck, deepening the kiss.

“Aren’t you suppose to be working?” Seunghyun murmured against his lips.

“I am working.” Jiyong answered, lips wandering, following the curve of Seunghyun’s jaw before whispering in his ear “consider this a team building exercise.”

Seunghyun laughed, deep and throaty, as the younger man abandoned his laptop to straddle his lap.

“I’m serious, Hyung.” He giggled, “group moral has been low. I think we need to do a few bonding exercises. For the team.” He tried to keep his face solemn, but a grin cracked through.

“For the team.” Seunghyun agreed, the seriousness of his tone ruined by his hands slipping under Jiyong’s shirt to gently caress his sides. He leaned forward, sucking a bruise onto the smaller man’s collarbone. Jiyong groaned, grinding down into his lap. He smirked when he felt the older man half hard beneath him, pressing against the back of his thighs.

“I dunno, Hyung, are you sure you’re up for it? It seems like it might be kind of _hard_ …”

“I’ll show you hard.” Seunghyun laughed, burying his hands in Jiyong’s hair to pull him down for a searing kiss. Jiyong opened his mouth easily, accepting his seeking tongue. Moaning and pressing his body as close to Seunghyun’s as possible, grasping at the collar of Seunghyun’s shirt.

“Lube?” He managed to gasp out between kisses. Jiyong laughed.

“One of these days you’re going to have to be the responsible one in this relationship.” He said, sliding out of his lap, over to the side table where Seunghyun had abandoned his script.

“Hey, we’re at _your_ house.”

“And if we were at _your house_ you’d still be asking me to get the lube.” Jiyong replied, sinking back down into his lap, bottle in hand.

“You know what I think out first team building exercise should be?”

“What?” Jiyong murmured, lips gliding along Seunghyun’s neck.

“Learning to appreciate the leader.”

Jiyong looked confused so Seunghyun simply stood and dropped him on his ass on the couch.

“Yah!” Jiyong squeaked out, “What are you-”

The rest of his protests died in a moan as Seunghyun dropped to his knees between his thighs. A quick tug to the waistband of his shorts freed Jiyong’s length and Seunghyun wasted no time in licking him from root to tip. He grinned at the shudder that rolled through the younger man’s body, leaning forward to take just the head of his cock into his mouth and suck. Jiyong’s breath hissed out between clenched teeth and his hips rolled forward, seeking full immersion into the wet heat of Seunghyun’s mouth.

Seunghyun pressed his long fingers into the notches of his hips to hold him still, flattening his tongue against the sensitive spot just under the head of his cock, watching Jiyong writhe against the hold he had on his hips. “Hyung…” He groaned out, “Stop teasing. I don’t feel very appreciated right now!”

Seunghyun chuckled around his length and Jiyong groaned anew, hands fluttering uselessly for a moment before landing in Seunghyun’s hair, pressing down insistently. The older man complied, taking the rest of him into his mouth in a slow suck that had Jiyong’s eyes rolling back momentarily. “Hyung..” He ground out again. Seunghyun always found it fascinating, the fact that the more turned on Jiyong got, the lower his voice became, while his screams and cries seemed to increase in pitch. It made for a delicious symphony he never got tired of hearing.

He closed his eyes, indulging in the shiver of sensation that followed in the path of Jiyong’s blunt nails scraping across his scalp as he fisted his hands in Seunghyun’s hair. This time when the younger man pressed forward, Seunghyun loosened his grip and let him fuck into his mouth. He kept up a steady suction as Jiyong pulled his hips back, drowning in the sound of the man above him whimpering at the sensation before snapping his hips back. As Jiyong pushed back in, Seunghyun swallowed, hearing the younger man gasp as he slipped farther down his throat. When Seunghyun hollowed out his cheeks and let out a deep moan, Jiyong lost his last semblance of control and fucked into his mouth in earnest. A litany of hisses, moans, and low groans filled the silence of the room.

“Fuck, Hyun. _Fuck_.. I can’t-” Jiyong’s words trailed off into one of his high pitched whimpers and Seunghyun knew he was close. When he came down his throat, he swallowed it easily.

Jiyong pulled him up, their lips meeting in a lazy slide, Jiyong’s tongue delving deep into his mouth. He pulled back, grinning up at Seunghyun, running the pad of his thumb gently across the older man’s swollen lips.

“Do you feel appreciated now, Oh Great Leader?” Seunghyun asked, voice hoarse, words clumsy around his tongue.

“Very.” His voice a low purr. “You should let me say thank you.”

“For the team?” Seunghyun chuckled.

“For the team.” Jiyong agreed, drawing Seunghyun back onto the couch next to him. He slide the rest of the way out of his shorts, pulling his top up over his head, before undoing Seunghyun’s belt and fly with practice ease. Seunghyun shimmed out of his pants as Jiyong’s deft fingers quickly undid the buttons of his shirt. Jiyong clamored back into his lap, taking Seunghyun’s hand as he popped the cap on the forgotten bottle, coating the older man’s fingers in the cool gel. He guided Seunghyun’s hand behind him, rising up on his knees slightly to give him a better angle. Seunghyun caught the sigh that escaped his lips with his own as the first finger breached him. It wasn’t long before Seunghyun had worked him up to two and he was sighing again at the delicious burn that accompanied being stretched, rocking down gently against Seunghyun’s fingers as they scissored him open. Jiyong leaned into the touch of the older man’s hand on his cheek momentarily before it slide to wrap around the base of his neck, the firm grip distracting him as a third finger was added. He arched his back as Seunghyun curled his fingers, stroking them lightly against his prostate, his breath coming sharply now, a fine sheen of sweat beginning to cover his skin.

Seunghyun let him rock his hips a minute longer, enjoying the sight of the smaller man fucking himself on his hand. “Are you ready for me, jagiya?” He asked, a strangled moan and a small nod was his response. He pulled his hand away, relishing the gasp of displeasure his lover released. His fixed his palms on Jiyong’s hips and guided him over his cock, lining them up before pulling him down. He released a groan of his own as the tight heat enveloped him. Seunghyun gathered Jiyong up in his arms, the younger fully seated on his cock, thighs pressed to thighs, and held him against his chest, the smaller man’s head nestled under his chin. Seunghyun could feel him trembling in his arms, so he waited for Jiyong to make the first move.

He was achingly hard. When Jiyong finally rolled his hips forward Seunghyun’s vision whited out around the edges. “ _Shit_..” He groaned, holding Jiyong closer in a desperate attempt to anchor himself. Jiyong rolled his hips again, picking up a slow, grinding rhythm, his elbows braced against Seunghyun’s shoulders for leverage. All the while Seunghyun whispering reverent words against his hair.

“Baby, it feels so good.. God, Ji, do you have any idea how amazing you are?” Seunghyun says, listening to the hitch in Jiyong’s breathing as the compliments wash over him, “fuck, jagi, I’m going to come, Jiyong, are you ready?” Jiyong’s breath was harsh in his throat, coming out in hot, sharp pants against the planes of Seunghyun’s chest.

Seunghyun’s hands smoothed through his lover’s hair, raising his face gently to look at him.

“I love you, Jiyong.” He grits out between clenched teeth.

“ _God_ , Seunghyun. I love you, too.” The younger man’s voice cracked with emotion, his words became a gasp as Seunghyun reached between him to stroke his cock, his thumb rolling over the head and pressing into the slit. He thrusts up hard as Jiyong’s walls tighten around him in orgasm, feeling the younger man spurt into his hand, and he comes, too.

“You’re so beautiful..” He whispered, running soothing hands through his lover’s sweat dampened hair, calming strokes down his heaving back. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

* * *

If there was an award for the number of times a person could fuck up one relationship, Seunghyun would have won it by now. How many other people could say they’d introduced their ex to their future rebound?

Honestly, he hadn’t really _introduced_ them. Jiyong kind of did that on his own by pure accident. It was shortly after their group debut in Japan. They were doing an interview for ViVi magazine, the company had tried to make the space as comfortable as possible, a sitting room of sorts with some of their latest issues spread out on a coffee table for them to browse though if they wanted. Jiyong had been asked by the interviewer to describe his ideal type, and while struggling in his sub par Japanese he’d grabbed a magazine and flipped through the pages until a girl caught his eye. She was slight with short, dark hair cut in a bob, sitting on the floor as she pouted into the camera. “Her.” He said, pointing at the picture. “ I like girls like her. Fashionable, kind of mysterious?”

The interviewer had nodded excitedly, “That’s Mizuhara Kiko. She’s about your age. A new up and coming model. Do you know her?”

The tips of Jiyong’s ear had gone red, he could already feel the rumor mills churning. Seunghyun had laughed at his friend’s discomfort. Because that’s what they had been at the time, just friends. He wasn’t going to lie to himself and deny that there had been a few moments between them, drunken cuddles while they talked about their hopes and dreams, presses of lips that were more chaste than anything and laughed off seconds later, lingering touches, copious amounts of flirting. He knew _now_ that Jiyong had been infatuated with him for years, but at the time Seunghyun himself was just starting to come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t exactly straight. He was coming off another failed relationship with a woman where he just couldn’t find it in himself to stay interested.

In any case, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when a few months later Hyunsuk-hyung had called them into his office, along with the members of 2ne1, to meet the young model. “Show her around.” Hyunsuk had said, looking pointedly at Jiyong, “Make her feel welcome.”

Kiko spent a few weeks in Korea and surprisingly, Seunghyun found that he really liked her. She was smart, but she had no filter. Similar to him, she said whatever popped into her head. She was funny, too. Silly, even. It’s interesting, really, how much he had in common with Kiko. Their conversations were stilted. Her Korean was pathetic, which he found hilarious, and his Japanese consisted of rehearsed answers he’d memorized for TV appearances, how to order sushi, and booze. The amount of English words they knew out together was equally as laughable. So they communicated by miming, drawing, pointing, most conversations ending in laughter and hysterics.

Jiyong pretty much ignored her. Whenever she tried to talk to him, he glared and announced that he was busy. Seunghyun understood Jiyong’s frustration. Yang was trying to play celebrity matchmaker to give them an edge in the Japanese market. He’d be annoyed, too, if someone tried to push a relationship on him like that.

When it became apparent that Kiko and Jiyong weren’t going to hit it off, Yang settled for 'relationship by association’. When Jiyong would go out with friends when they visited Japan, Kiko always ended up on the invite list unbeknownst to Jiyong.

He would arrive and she would be there, smiling tentatively at him, obviously just as uncomfortable with the forced relationship as he was. He was always kind to her where potential eyes could pry, but behind closed doors he made it no secret that he didn’t care for her presence. Later on, Seunghyun would discover that a lot of Jiyong’s animosity towards her actually came from her peculiar relationship with Seunghyun.

Later in the year, the GD&T.O.P album meant long hours spent between just the two of them. Those hours afforded them a level of privacy and comfort that was needed for them to take their relationship to the next level. By December of 2010, Jiyong was his and they couldn’t get enough of each other.

Around the middle of February they found themselves at a party. Honestly, Seunghyun couldn’t even remember who had thrown the party, all he remembered was the guest list was very exclusive. The party was for lack of a better word, _private_. A place for idols, actors, and entertainers to drink, talk, and hook-up without the risk of media exposure. Did that mean it was safe? Absolutely not. A rival could snap a picture, someone could kiss and tell. Even in this kind of environment, there fledgling relationship wasn’t safe. Alcohol and weed, however, tended to make you forget pesky details like that. Which, coincidentally, is how Seunghyun found himself in a upstairs bedroom of a compound in Gangnam, door locked, balls deep in his insanely sexy boyfriend.

Thing is, they didn’t realize that the door off to the side, the one they thought lead to a bathroom or a closet or something, actually lead into the other bedroom.

So there he was, cock pumping in and out of the gorgeous man on all fours in front of him, a hand clamped across his lover’s beautiful mouth to stifle the sharp little cries he was making, when the door swung open.

The slight model stood there, eyes trained on her phone. She pressed send and Seunghyun’s forgotten phone vibrated against the floorboards. Her eyes lifted at the sound and froze.

The sound brought Jiyong out of his head. When he looked up and saw her standing there, all the color drained from his flushed cheeks.

“ _Shit_!” He swore, shoving Seunghyun off him. “What the _fuck_ are you _doing here_?!” You’d expect his voice to be shrill, but Seunghyun remembered the deadly, dark tone like it was yesterday.

“Kiko..” Seunghyun had started, reaching for a blanket to cover himself and Jiyong. Before he could say any more, she bolted.

“Shit. _Shit_!” Jiyong slammed his hand back against the headboard, “We have to catch her.”

“I’ll do it. You’ll just cause a scene.” Seunghyun said, grabbing his jeans and slipping them back on, stumbling in his haste.

“What is _she_ even doing here? In Korea? At this party of all places?!”

“I invited her.” Seunghyun answered quietly, buttoning his shirt with swift, sure fingers.

“What?! Why?” Jiyong was pulling on his own pants, straightening out his t-shirt, running his hands through his short blonde hair attempting to return some semblance of style to it. The angry set of his features ruined it or else Seunghyun might have smiled at how cute he was.

“She was in town for a shoot. She said she was bored, so I invited her. I had her added to the guest list. I guess she was looking for me.” He shrugged, honestly he’d forgotten he’d invited her at all. He was a bit _distracted_. Seunghyun shoved his feet into his loafers, reaching for the door.

“You better hope she doesn’t tell anyone what she saw before you find her.” Jiyong whispered arms wrapped around himself in a hug.

“She won’t.” Seunghyun assured him

“How the fuck do you know?” Jiyong snapped.

“Because she knows I’m gay.” Seunghyun sighed. Jiyong’s jaw dropped and Seunghyun left the room.

Kiki did know he was gay. She knew that he had fallen hopelessly in love with a man. She knew he’d struggled with his sexuality for years. She knew that his first real, sober kiss with the man who had stolen his heart had lifted that fog of uncertainty from his brain and that suddenly everything had made sense. She knew because he’d talked to her about it. In their stilted, hodge podge of Korean, Japanese, and English he’d told her because he didn’t know who else to tell. He didn’t trust anyone he was close to. She was perfect, she was far enough removed from his life that if she said anything who would believe her? What she didn’t know, or rather, _hadn’t_ known, was that the man he’s fallen in love with was Kwon Jiyong. G-Dragon. His band mate and leader. His best friend. He hadn’t been brave enough to tell her _that_.

Well, she definitely knew now. He almost laughed out loud until he remembered how angry Jiyong was, how quickly he’d shoved him away with that _look_ on his face. He didn’t blame him, not really. It wasn’t that being gay or a lesbian or whatever was unheard of in the Korean entertainment industry. That would be ridiculous. He would bet money on the fact that they weren’t the only same sex couple hooking up somewhere in the house tonight.

No, it all came back to _who_ they were. If it was anyone else, the other guests would most likely close ranks, become tight lipped, protect them. When it came to he and Jiyong… If it got around to the wrong people that he and Jiyong were in a sexual relationship it would spread like wildfire. It was nothing personal, I might _feel_ personal, but really it was just business. BIGBANG was on top. There was always going to be someone out there who coveted that top spot, who was actively searching for a way to knock them down a peg or two. Maybe they hadn’t thought this through. Maybe this was a bad idea. It was obvious that neither of them were willing to risk their careers for their relationship. Not yet anyways.

Seunghyun spotted her as he walked past an open doorway. He doubled back and entered the room with a quiet knock on the door frame. She was sitting on a low couch, a glass of wine pressed against her chest by shaking hands.

“Kiko..” He said softly, sitting down next to her gently. “You okay?” He asked awkwardly in English.

She shrank back from him a bit, eyes wide.

“Don’t mind Jiyong, he gets kind of… tense?” He had meant to say intense, but the English word escaped him. Her eyes flew even wider before she snorted out an almost hysterical laugh.

“And you were helping him, what? Ease some of that tension?” She chortled. “I think a spa certificate might have done the same thing.” Seunghyun blushed, then laughed as well.

“Ahh, no.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean… He gets worried?” He tried again, this time in Korean. She nodded slowly.

“Is he the one you were telling me about, Seunghyun-sama?” Seunghyun smiled fondly,

“Come with me, let’s talk?” He tugged her by her hand out of the room, back in the direction they’d come.

He pulled her back into the room where Jiyong was pacing like caged tiger. He rounded on them the minute he heard the door.

“You!” He pointed a finger in Kiko’s face “If you ever breathe a word about what you saw here today, if you tell _anyone_ I’ll ruin you. You won’t work here or in Japan or anywhere else I hold any sway. Do you understand me?” Apparently rage made Jiyong fluent in Japanese, he didn’t falter once. Kiko took a step back from him, a hand instinctively reaching out to clutch Seunghyun’s elbow for support.

Jiyong’s eyes followed her movement, his lips curling back into a sneer. “Ji..” Seunghyun started, but he cut him off.

“Well aren’t you two just _adorable_.” He snapped, “Enjoy your party, hyung. We’re done here.”

He left with a slam of the door. By the time Seunghyun made it through the crowded party he was in his car and long gone.

That was the first time they broke up.

It was cosmically funny that a few weeks later an interviewer accused Jiyong of being in a relationship with Kiko. Jiyong had laughed his way through the question, explaining that Kiko was friends with all of BIGBANG not just him. Seunghyun interjected, stating that Kiko was closer with him than the others. Of course, people thought he was just deflecting for Jiyong. It was equally laugh worthy that Seunghyun’s public speaking out against Kiko and Jiyong’s rumored relationship is what got him back in Jiyong’s good graces.

Afterwards, whenever their paths crossed, Kiko seemed to go out of her way to please Jiyong.

“You don’t have to be afraid of him.” Seunghyun told her, “He wasn’t serious. Just…scared.”

“No, I know. I’m not afraid if him, really. I just want us all to be friends.”

The real turn around in their relationship was when Jiyong received the limited edition Marc Jacobs shirt in the mail.

“See? She’s not so bad.” Seunghyun snickered over the top of his wineglass as his petite boyfriend tried to hide his excitement over the gift.

“Whatever.”

Jiyong always had liked pretty things.

The next time he was in Japan, Jiyong invited Kiko out on his own, hanging out with her and a group of friends at Fuji-Q Highland before going out to dinner.

Later, when serious rumors began to swirl throughout certain circles about the nature of Jiyong and Seunghyun’s relationship, it had been Kiko who called and offered up the perfect solution. The public had already romanticized Jiyong’s relationship with her without any encouragement. Why not take advantage of it? They started spending time together, just the two of them. It was worth it to throw off the tendrils of suspicion.

When Seunghyun ended things with Jiyong, he’d been surprised to see them keeping up the charade. He kept himself shut away in his home, only going out when he had to, interacting only thorough his manager. He kept himself so isolated that he missed the point when Jiyong and Kiko crossed the line from friends to lovers.

When the pictures of them spending time together with friends in Itaewon came out, Seunghyun realized what was going on. You didn’t look at someone like that, touch someone like that, unless you loved them. Obviously the pictures were staged. Staged in the sense that Jiyong had to have know the paparazzo was there, perhaps had even 'invited’ them with an anonymous tip, but what Seunghyun saw in Jiyong’s posturing, the loving gazes, the subtle touches… Well, Seunghyun had been on the receiving end of Jiyong’s affections enough times to know that what he was looking at was genuine.

This is the part where Seunghyun realized that he was a shit person. He left Jiyong, left him for this exact reason. To give him a chance to find someone else. Someone good for him, someone who shared his wants and desires for the future, who actually had a hope of giving him that future without taking anything away from him in the process.

But when he saw those pictures.. he felt like he was dying. He couldn’t breathe. It was like white noise in his head as he stared at Jiyong’s hand on her cheek, his fingers in her hair, his palm on her hip as she leaned against his chest.

Next thing he knew he was in a cab, he was in front of Jiyong’s building, he was being waved through the lobby by a confused looking security guard who couldn’t have stopped him even if he tried.

He was in front of Jiyong’s door, pounding his fist against it and yelling his name.

A bewildered looking Jiyong threw open the door, robe obviously thrown on in a rush, hair in a disarray.

“What? What’s wrong? Who’s hurt?”

Seunghyun’s lips crashed against his and Jiyong stiffened momentarily before his fingers curled around the collar of Seunghyun’s shirt and his tongue sought his mouth. The door slammed shut behind them as Jiyong pulled him down the hall to his bedroom, lips still locked. Seunghyun felt the door against his back, the knob digging into his hip briefly before be found himself being shoved across the bedroom. He stumbled against the bed and Jiyong was on him again in seconds, hands running through Seunghyun’s hair, body pressed flush to his. For once, Seunghyun found the lube, digging it out of the bedside drawer, pushing Jiyong back into the mattress as he shed his clothes, Jiyong’s robe lying forgotten somewhere by the door.

Jiyong barely let Seunghyun prep him, urging him to move faster with fervent whispers until he was lining himself up and pushing inside, his groan mingling with Jiyong’s hiss of pain.

“Are you okay?” Seunghyun whispered against his temple, the first words he’d spoken since laying eyes on Jiyong at the door.

Jiyong’s response was to surge up against him, lips connecting again with a moan that was probably closer to a whimper.

It was over embarrassingly fast, Seunghyun living in his self imposed bubble of celibacy and all. He made sure to make the most of their time, angling his thrusts for Jiyong’s pleasure, pumping the younger man to a screaming release before finding his own.

They lay together afterwards, sweaty foreheads pressed together, chests heaving and breath mingling.

“I missed you..”

Seunghyun looked at Jiyong then, at his eyes, wrecked and so so vulnerable. Suddenly, the world came crashing back down n him and he realized what he’d done, because nothing had changed.

“ _Fuck_.” He pulled away from Jiyong, sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands.

“Seunghyun?” Jiyong kneeled behind him, reaching a tentative hand out to touch his shoulder. Seunghyun flinched away from the contact instinctively.

“I’m sorry, Jiyong. I shouldn’t have come here.”

The sharp inhale of breath and withdrawal of the body behind him shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did, after all, he was the one saying he’d made a mistake.

Jiyong stood from the bed, crossing to the bathroom door on the other side of the room.

“Get out.”

The door shut with a crack. Seunghyun pretended he couldn’t hear the angry sobs that Jiyong probably though the shower would muffle as he dressed and left as quickly as possible.

He didn’t go home, he stumbled down the street to the nearest bar and installed himself there. It was just shy of midnight which meant he had a good three hours to drink himself into a stupor before the owner closed up and he’d have to call his manger to shuttle him home. Excellent.

Seunghyun remembered sitting in that bar, empty shot glasses stacked in front of him like he was playing some sort of demented game of chicken with his own liver. What kind of person was he? Throwing himself back into Jiyong’s life like a insecure child. Physically placing himself back into his personal life, back into his love life, back into his _bed_. For what? A bout of petty jealously? To prove that he could? To force Jiyong to show him in some way that he still loved him, that he hadn’t moved on? That’s what this was about, right? The whole world was was watching Jiyong fall in love with Mizuhara Kiko and Seunghyun had to prove to himself that he still mattered, had to remind Jiyong that he loved Seunghyun _first_. When push came to shove, all his noble intentions, his decision to gallantly step aside and let Jiyong meet someone better suited for him was all a lie. Self serving bullshit.

And he hated himself for it.

* * *

Then and now, nothing had really changed. It was actually painful how little everything had changed. Jiyong and Seunghyun still loved each other, he doubted that would ever change.

They still wanted different things.

Jiyong wanted his career, his empire. He wanted to get married and start a family. He wanted Korea, all his family and friends, his music. He _deserved_ those things. That didn’t change the fact that no matter how much he wanted to, Seunghyun couldn’t give Those things to him.

Asking Jiyong to be with Seunghyun was asking him to give up every dream he’d ever had.

No, Seunghyun had made his choice.

There was no going back, no starting over.

He was done being the biggest obstacle in Jiyong’s life. He was done holding him back, keeping him from moving forward and finding real happiness.

Seunghyun was letting go, for good this time.

And he knew exactly what he had to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyric in chapter image from Just One Yesterday (feat. Foxes) - Fall Out Boy  
> Come see me on tumblr [hoseokie-jung ❤︎](http://hoseokie-jung.tumblr.com/)


	4. REPINE

* * *

 

_REPINE_

_[verb]_

_1\. to express dejection; display of depression or lowness of spirits._

_2\. to be fretfully discontented; fret; complain._

_3\. to yearn after something._

_Etymology: Middle English repinen (to be aggrieved); re- (re-) + pinen (to yearn)._

* * *

 

Coffee.

What Jiyong desperately needed at that moment was coffee.

How long had he been awake now? Way past 24 hours, he was almost positive. The real question was more like when was he going to hit 48. He'd already caught his second wind. And his third. And his fourth.

This concert had to be _perfect_.

This was their last chance, in an uncertain future of so many years apart, that all five of them had to be on stage together.

The concert was going to be huge. He had songs they hadn't performed in years on the setlist, he had songs they'd _never_ performed live on the setlist. He had solo stages for each member, a spotlight all their own. He had a list of guest performers a mile long coming to give them a reprieve, a moment to rest so they didn't drop dead between numbers.

An ambitious floor plan, three stages designed to optimize their time and make the transitions between songs seem painless, as well as get them as close to each and every one of their fans as best they could.

This was his, _their_ , thank you to the fans; the concert experience of their lives. A goodbye to remember just in case it it turned out to be permanent separation . 

Jiyong leaned against the steel skeleton of the main stage watching Seungri run through his choreography for What Can I Do with their dancers. From his place in the wings, he smiled appreciatively. Seungri's stages always had this air of effortlessness. He wished the fans could see the amount of hard work the maknae put into them to make it that way.

He felt fingers brush across the nape of his neck, tracing the feathers imprinted into his skin. A fleeting touch he was all too familiar with.

"Shouldn't you be practicing the new choreography, hyung?"

Seunghyun snorted behind him, fingertips still trailing along the edges of inked wings. "No."

Jiyong pursed his lips in an effort not to laugh at the older man's easy dismissal of the idea of practicing. 

"Wouldn't want to shock the fans, you know?" Seunghyun continued, "T.O.P actually learning the choreography? Nah, as long as I shuffle my feet in the general direction the rest of you are moving and bob my head to the beat, they're satisfied. I'm _endearing_ like that."

Jiyong threw an elbow out, catching Seunghyun in the ribs. He smirked at the 'oomph' of air expelling from his hyung's lungs. "God forbid you work hard at something." 

A moment of silence, and then;

"You look like shit."

"Thanks."

The fingers on his neck became insistent, dropping to his shoulders to work at the tense muscles bundled underneath his skin. 

"When did you sleep last?" Seunghyun's rich baritone washed over him in the wake of his hands. Jiyong's eyes slide closed, a involuntary defense against the onslaught of sensation.

"What day is today?"

He could practically feel Seunghyun's frown as he answered, "Tuesday".

"Sunday." He supplied. 

" _Jiyong_!"

Should he have been happy about the notes of despair he detected in the older man's voice? Probably not, but he kind of was. He was petty like that. Soaking up any and all signs of Seunghyun's affections. He was greedy.

"Why don't you come over tonight, hyung? I know I could sleep if you were there with me..."

The weight of Seunghyun's hands falling from his shoulders was particularly devastating and Jiyong's heart sunk. He felt Seunghyun step back from him, felt the real world sensations of his body heat retreating, felt the distance the older man shoved between them emotionally like it was a physical thing, a brick wall between them. 

Why did he always push so hard? When was he going to learn to stop trying to force things between them? When was he going to learn to appreciate what he had? Why was he so _greedy_?

"I can't." 

Jiyong's squeezed his eyes shut again, this time to block out the hurt he was feeling. He changed the subject, a silent acknowledgement of Seunghyun's rejection.

"Are you sure you don't want to do a stage for Oh Mom? It seems unfair, everyone else gets to perform three of their solos and you only have two.." 

"Sure."

Jiyong blinked "Yeah? You'll do it?"

"If you want me to, I'll do it, Jiyong-ah."

Jiyong finally turned to face the older man. Seunghyun's eyes were as dark and fathomless as always, his face set in his typical mask of perfectly composed indifference. 

If this kept up, Jiyong was going to get whiplash.

"I'll add it to the setlist."

\---

Thursday, their final dress rehearsal. The concert was the next night and Jiyong was rested thanks to some doctor prescribed meds. 

He sat in the middle of the central stage, legs tucked up underneath him as he watched Youngbae run through his solo set. The floor around him was covered in papers, papers filled with notes about everything from audio timing to memos for the lighting crews. He was still undecided about a few things, mainly whether or not his best friend should open his set with Ringa Linga to get the crowd up on their feet, or end with it to go out with a bang (no pun intended).

He chewed on his bottom lip, eyes scanning down the setlist for probably the ten-thousandth time. Ending was probably better. He'd decided earlier to move Seunghyun's set after Youngbae's and he was starting with Turn It Up. Transition from Ringa Linga to Turn It Up would keep the momentum going nicely. 

Decision made, he lifted the mic in his lap to his lips and called out, 

"Bae-ah!" His friend raised his fist in acknowledgment from his place on the main stage, "I moved Ringa Linga to the end of your set, okay?"

Youngbae flashed him an 'ok' sign and Jiyong swore he could see his eye smile from halfway across the stadium. He laughed quietly to himself as he gathered up his papers.

This was why Youngbae wasn't the leader. All he wanted to do was sing and dance. He hated making decisions. He was more than happy to do what Jiyong told him. Jiyong remembered more than one frustrated phone call from Youngbae when he was on the road for his Rise tour, asking Jiyong's opinion about something so trivial Jiyong never would have hesitated to answer, but for Youngbae it was nerve wracking. 

Jiyong dropped into the tunnel below the narrow walkway that connected the central stage to the main stage. Crouching down papers clutched to his chest, he made his way backstage in search of the stage manager to hand over his notes.

He poked his head into the empty dressing room, glancing about before turning around to keep looking. At least, he had thought the dressing room was empty;

"...yes, I understand."

Seunghyun's voice drifted to him from behind the partition of his private dressing area and Jiyong stopped.

"I only have a few more loose ends to tie up here. Once the concert is over, it should only be a few more weeks and then I'm all yours." 

There was a pause and Jiyong waited with baited breath for what would come next. He knew he should feel guilty for eavesdropping but he couldn't find it in himself to care, 

"I'm honored, really, but I don't need any of that. I don't want to make a fuss."

Another pause. What the hell? Was he signing a contract for a new movie deal? And then;

"Thank you. I look forward to our next few years together."

Jiyong reeled back, papers slipping from numb fingers to hit the floor. The sound of their scattering sounded like a flock of startled birds taking flight, their metaphorical wings mirroring the frantic clattering in his chest. 

 _Years_?

He stood there, frozen, eyes glued to the partition blocking him from his bandmate's sight. It was only when Seunghyun's long fingers curled around the edge of the curtain to pull it back did he move.

Stumbling over his own feet, Jiyong ran. He left the papers where they fell. Let Seunghyun think someone had knocked them to the floor by accident. Let him think a draft had breezed through then room. Let him realize Jiyong had been there. He didn't really care. All he cared about was putting as much distance between himself and ominous, mysterious phone calls as possible. 

Jiyong rounded a corner and ran smack into Seungri, sending him sprawling against a wall. The younger man's fingers bit into Jiyong's shoulders in an effort to keep them both off the ground, eyes wide in bewilderment. Those same eyes swept across Jiyong's face, brows drawn together in concern.

"Hyung, what's wrong?"

Jiyong sagged against him, arms wrapping around his waist, face pressed against his t-shirt clad shoulder. 

"Sick." He lied, words muffled against the soft material.

Seungri's steady hands soothed through his hair, his concern now apparent in his words.

"Do you need to go home?"

Jiyong nodded wondering, not for the first time, if Seungri would ever cease to be there to catch him when he fell.

The younger man pulled his phone from the pocket of his jeans, dialing his manger. "Jiyong-hyung is not feeling well. I'm going to drive him home. No, it's not serious. He just needs to rest. We'll see you tomorrow." 

Listening to their bossy maknae, Jiyong felt a hysterical bubble of laughter creeping up his throat. He might be the leader, but Seungri was the glue that held them all together. Messy and uneven but whole, thanks to his influence. Jiyong lived in fear of the day he'd wouldn't be able to rely on Seungri to save him from himself.

"Come on, hyung." 

Seungri gently extracted himself from Jiyong's hold, resting a heavy hand on his shoulder. Jiyong let the younger man guide him through the maze that was backstage and out the door into the shadowed parking lot.

He climbed into the passenger seat of Seungri's sleek car, fastening the seat belt before letting his forehead fall against cool glass.

Seungri climbed in, started the car, and backed out. Merging onto the busy street, they drove along in silence for a good fifteen minutes before the younger man spoke.

"So are you going to tell me the real reason you were freaking out back there or are you going to keep pretending like you're sick?"

Jiyong groaned, pulling his feet up into the seat, knees to chest. He turned in his seat as much as his seat belt would allow to face his bandmate.

"It's stupid."

"It's not stupid if you're upset." Seungri glanced at him out of corner of his eye before returning his attention to the road ahead. "You really did look like you were gonna barf all over me back there, though."

Jiyong laughed weakly, "Don't be crude." He scolded, more out of habit than anything else, really.

Seungri snorted, "Look who's talking."

Silence settled over them again. Buildings passed and cars rolled by. Finally, Jiyong spoke,

"I heard Seunghyun on the phone."

Seungri frowned, brows furrowing. His grip on the steering wheel tightened almost imperceptibly. 

"What did he say?"

"I don't know! Maybe nothing." He shoved his hands through his hair in frustration. Maybe he'd over reacted. Maybe he was being a jealous, stupid teenager about this whole thing. "He was talking about tying up loose ends. He said he didn't want to cause a fuss... And then he said something about looking forward to the next few years together.."

"And I take it you didn't confront him about it?"

"Of course not." Jiyong snorted derisively, "I ran." 

Seungri nodded, of course he did. He knew better than anyone how gun shy Jiyong was when it came to Seunghyun.

"Maybe he's signing in for a new drama?" The younger man mused, "Those can take a few years, especially if you're the lead. He's been doing a lot of film work lately, maybe he wants to try television again. Just to prove he can."

Jiyong shook his head, "I don't think so. You didn't hear him. His _voice_.." 

Seunghyun's voice had carried a level of respect Jiyong had never heard from him before. Not with Yang, not with his directors. No, this was something entirely different.

"He's hiding things from me again." He mumbled, pressing his cheek against the leather upholstery "Why am I surprised by this?" 

"Jiyong.." 

"No! I always _do this_! I'm so fucking _stupid_." He wanted to hit something. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. "Why do I let him do this to me?" He whispered, more to himself than to Seungri. He didn't expect and answer, he already knew the answer.

Seungri answers him anyways,

"Because you love him." 

"Yeah, well, sometimes that's not enough." Jiyong's voice sounded choked, hoarse in the enclosed space.

"No." Seungri agreed, "Sometimes it's not."

\---

Jiyong sat on his balcony, a cold drizzle turned the air damp and a fitful breeze blew, sending spurts of icy water under the overhang. He took a drag from his cigarette, wishing the nicotine would hurry up and do its job; soothe his fragile nerves.

Seungri was inside, browsing his movie collection. He said the smoke bothered him, but Jiyong knew that was bullshit. He'd seen the kid shoulder to shoulder in dark clubs where the air was more tar than oxygen and the haze of smoke was so thick you couldn't see anyone outside of your immediate circle of friends.

No, he knew he was just giving him a minute of privacy. A minute to collect himself, to file down his rough edges before he cut himself on them.

Knuckles rapped against the glass above his head and he turned in his seat to see the other holding up two takeout menus, eyebrows raised.

Jiyong pointed to the one on the left, Thai food sounded good. He finished off his cigarette, unfolded his legs, smashing the still smoldering filter into the ashtray by his elbow before he went inside.

"...two #5 combination plates. Yes, thank you. Leave it with the doorman. He'll bring it up. Tip will be at the front desk." 

Seungri hung up and smiled at him widely. 

"I ordered for you."

"I heard." He flattened his palm against the younger man's forehead as he walked past him into the kitchen, snicker when he stumbled backwards a few steps.

"Yah, be _nice_."

Jiyong threw the bottle cap of the beer he'd just opened at him.

"Give me one of those."

"Get it yourself."

" _Hyung_ ," Seungri whined, "you're standing _right there_."

Jiyong laughed, grabbing a second bottle, shoving it into the maknae's hands on his way back to the living room.

"What'd you pick?" He asked, gesturing to the television with his drink.

"Some animated bullshit." Seungri grinned, tossing him the case.

Jiyong caught it and looked down, "Howl's Moving Castle isn't _bullshit_!" He cried indignantly.

Seungri just laughed, flopping back onto the cushions and kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. 

"Be careful with that, that table costs more than your car." 

Seungri scoffed as the speaker by the door buzzed. Jiyong pressed the button below it, 

"Yes?"

"Mr. Kwon, your food has arrived." 

He opened the door, taking the heavy bag from the young man who ran the front desk. 

"Thank you, Jungoh." The boy bowed before hurrying off down the hall in the direction of the elevators. 

Twenty minutes later, as they stuffed their faces full of greasy noodles, Seungri finally addressed the elephant in the room. The Witch of the Waste cursed Sophie on screen and Seungri asked "Have you decided what you're going to do yet?"

"Nope." He didn't need any clarification, he knew what they were talking about.

"Do you know what you _want_ to do yet?"

"Ignore him. Scream at him. Act like I never heard anything. Demand he tells me the truth." He scrubbed his hands over his face, weariness suddenly bone deep. "Pros and Cons, you know? If I act like it didn't hear anything, I'll get a few more weeks with him. But then I run the risk of being blindsided by whatever he's planning, no matter how much I try to anticipate it. If I call him on his shit he's just going to get defensive and shut me out, the bastard. And then I'll still be blindsided by whatever it is that he's planning, because he won't tell me out of spite." 

"So.. what is this? A break up? I thought you said you were keeping your distance? That this was just sex?"

Once again, Jiyong was struck with just how damn grateful he was for Seungri. The younger man had never shied away from his relationship with Seunghyun. Sure, he'd been just as pissed as the rest of them when he found out all those years ago. Not for any sort of moral reasons like Youngbae had, but because of the risk they were taking, not only with their careers but with his as well, because if they went down BIGBANG went down with them. 

He was right, of course. Them wanting to be together was selfish, had always been selfish. For more than one reason. 

Seungri had taken it upon himself to keep them in line. Sometimes he went overboard, over compensating for and over reacting to the simplest things that Jiyong and Seunghyun did. At other times, he saved them from themselves. Like the time he wore Jiyong's bracelets on stage after that damn terrifying 'couples report' MNET ran about he and Seunghyun. It was meant to be a joke, but it had been uncomfortably close to the truth and they'd even managed to pick up on some things, like their bracelets, that they'd thought they'd been smart about. 

After butting his way into their relationship at every turn, it wasn't surprising when the younger man grew to support them and even become emotionally invested in it. Which was why he'd been the one Seunghyun had contacted after he dropped Jiyong on his ass. At least Seunghyun had done that for him, provided him with someone to pick him up off the floor after he knocked him down.

Regardless, Jiyong didn't have anyone else he could talk about the more intimate details with his relationship with, especially now that Kiko was avoiding him. He knew he'd hurt her, he didn't blame her. He was just glad that Seungri could bring up the physical side of his relationship with another man without blushing like a school girl in the process. 

"It was." Jiyong picked at the torn cuticle of his thumb, the sharp little stings of pain serving to center his swirling thoughts. "I never should have agreed to Zutter. Spending all that time together, recording the track and shooting the music video... It complicated things. That song was never suppose to see the light of day. I wrote it out of _habit_." He laughed derisively, "isn't that pathetic? That I wrote songs for he and I just as easy and I breathe, but it takes me four years to get an album together for the group?"

"It's not pathetic, stop that. Stop beating yourself up for being human, Jiyong-ah. He's been a part of your writing process since we were kids. You've always wrote music for the two of you alongside the group's songs. It's how you _work_. It's not pathetic."

"Yah, who's the hyung here?" Jiyong muttered, shoving the other man's knee roughly. "You're so smart, Mr. V.V.I.P? Tell me what to do."

"Dump his ass." Seungri replied immediately. 

"I can't."

"Why not?"

Jiyong's gaze dropped to his lap, unwilling to meet the younger man's eyes.

"...he said he loved me." God, he sounded like the lead in a shitty drama. Who was the screenwriter of his life? He wanted them fired. 

"What?" Seungri sounded just as mad as he expected him to. "When?" 

"The last night in Japan." He let out a shaky breath, "I can't give up on him, Ri. It's been years since he's let himself say anything like that to me. That has to mean something, right?" Did he sound as delusional as he felt?

"It means he's a fucking dick, that's what it means." Seungri glared at his phone like he was thinking of calling Seunghyun and telling him just how _much_ of a dick he thought he was. "How could he say that to you? After everything he did! How could he say that to you and not offer himself up in the process? What are you suppose to _do_ with that? He shouldn't be _saying_ that unless he means for things to change between the two of you." 

Jiyong knew he should be angry, too, that Seungri was right, but honestly, he just felt hopeful. Or at least he had. Now when he breathed he could feel the pieces of his broken heart, painstakingly stitched back together over time, grind against each other.

In the end, he still didn't make a decision. 

It was getting late and they both had places to be in the morning before they headed over to the stadium. Seungri hugged him roughly at the door.

"I still say you dump his ass. Mr. Hotshot Actor. Doesn't matter if you're dating or not. Cut him off. Can't get the milk without the cow. All that shit."

"Did you just call me a cow?" Jiyong mumbled into his hair.

"Bull. Whatever."

"That makes even less sense." 

Seungri just laughed his hyena laugh and said,

"Goodnight, hyung."

"Goodnight, Seungri-yah." 

\----

Jiyong was doing his best to play his role as leader, standing in the middle of the main thoroughfare backstage, shouting out last minute instructions, approving wardrobe adjustments, reviewing last minute changes to the choreography and the setlist.

"Ji, they need you for hair and makeup."  
   
"Just give me a second, Bae." He waved a hand dismissively over his shoulder, immersed in the lighting schematics with the stage manger.

"Come on, idiot. Let the nice people do their jobs." Youngbae scolded, grabbing him by the elbow and dragging him away. Jiyong managed a quick bow to the grinning man before stumbling to catch up with his friend. 

"Feeling better?" Youngbae asked, "I'm assuming so since you're harassing the staff pretty efficiently."

"I'm fine. I just needed a good night's rest. Ri bullied me into bed and I was out like a light."

"Listen, I know it does absolutely no good to tell you this, but don't work yourself so hard, man. Sleep is important, you know. Contrary to popular belief, you _are_ human." 

Jiyong snorted and flattened his palm against the shorter man's forehead, causing him to stumble backward a few steps before regaining his balance. 

"Ass."

"I'm sorry, I can't hear you all the way down there." 

"You are _not_ that much taller than me!" Youngbae scoffed.

"That's not what my profile says." 

"Feeling better, hyung?"

Jiyong belatedly realized that they'd reached the dressing room.

Seungri was spread out on one end of the couch, trying to catch a few more moments of rest before his turn in the stylist's chair. Daesung had been sitting next to the younger man, ignoring the feet that had wormed their way into his lap in favor of his phone, but now he was looking at Jiyong expectantly waiting for his answer. 

"I'm fine." He felt like a broken record, how many more times was he going to have to answer that question today? 

"You were sick?" 

Jiyong's eyes flicked up in surprise. Seunghyun was peering out from behind the partition of his private changing area, a small wrinkle of concern connecting his brows.

"I'm _fine_. I got a really bad headache yesterday. Exhaustion or something. Felt like I was gonna hurl so Seungri took me home. It wasn't a big deal. I get migraines all the time." 

"Is that why your dropped your papers?" Seunghyun asked, still obviously worried. 

Jiyong felt himself flush, so he turned away towards the hair and makeup station, climbing into a chair to cover his reddening face. "I didn't drop any papers."

"Oh.. I just thought, - I mean I found a stack of papers with your handwriting on them scattered across the floor yesterday afternoon. I tried to find you but they said you'd already left.."

Jiyong shrugged, refusing to meet his eyes. "Wasn't me. I left those papers for the stage manager hours before I left." 

Youngbae frowned at him, knowing for a fact that Jiyong had been working on his notes up until the very last second yesterday, but he kept his mouth shut. 

The atmosphere was quickly growing awkward between the five men. Jiyong hated this tension, the weird suffocating feeling that descended upon a room whenever he and Seunghyun said anything that wasn't kind and supportive to each other. 

The schism in the shared space was so damn obvious, too. Youngbae was frowning at him. Daesung was looking uncomfortable, glancing at Seunghyun every couple of seconds. Seungri had cracked an eye, and if Jiyong had to hazard a guess, he was busy trying make Seunghyun burst into flames with just his mind.

If there was one thing he regretted about his relationship with Seunghyun, it was that it often forced their friends to take sides. He had never wanted that. Of course, he'd never thought it would _come_ to that.

The door opened, a sudden burst of noise and laughter dispelling the silence that had come over the members as their staff bustled in. Quiet replaced with shrill voices and the loud thumps of people putting their heavy bags down on the tables. The familiar chaos shoved the five men back into work mode, each of them jumping into action.

Daesung sat in the chair next to Jiyong. Seunghyun disappeared back into his cave with a coordi-noona. Youngbae and Seungri sat cross legged on the floor facing each other, trading vocal warm-ups back and forth like it was a lost language only the two of them could speak while they awaited their turns in the stylists grasp.

"You know he cares about you, right? That's why he asks. He really does care." 

Daesung's voice was so quiet, Jiyong wasn't entirely sure he'd spoken at first. He glanced at the woman, Emiko, who was working on his hair. Her lips were pursed and she was obviously diligently attempting to ignore the conversation happening right underneath her nose. Most of their staff had been with them for years. Most of their staff knew about Seunghyun and himself. After all, they'd gotten in enough explosive fights backstage over the years, you'd have to be both deaf _and_ stupid not to figure it out. Emiko, in fact, had been signed on during their Electric Love tour and had seen it all, his entire relationship with Seunghyun from start to... whatever this was. 

"No, I don't." Jiyong finally answered him. He refused to meet the younger man's eyes, "Why? Do you know something that I don't?" He scoffed, "Actually, that would be pretty typical. He talks to everyone _but_ me." 

Daesung just shook his head, refusing to take the bait. Honestly, Jiyong would be proud of himself if just _one_ of his interactions involving the older man these days achieved passive aggressive instead of bitter. Lately he'd been sailing right past it and sliding smoothly into straight up bitchy.

"He does. Just give him some time."

Jiyong laughed in disbelief, earning a gentle prod of reprimand from Emiko when he shifted in his chair. Give him time? Three years wasn't enough time?

"Sure. Whatever you say." 

The door opened again and a murmur of surprise ran through the room, a wave of bowing bodies followed in its wake. 

In the mirror, Yang Hyunsuk stood reflected back at him. His face was dour as he waved off the acknowledgements with an impatient hand. He crossed the room, posture stiff, to knock on the panel of Seunghyun's private haven. The curtain pulled back and he disappeared inside. 

"What the fuck is all that about?" Seungri's voice broke the tension and Jiyong turned to Daesung with wide eyes, only to find his bandmate's brow furrowed in concern to match his own. 

"I honestly have no idea." Daesung shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. 

Emiko pronounced his hair done and moved onto his makeup. Jiyong closed his eyes, letting himself be carried away in the familiar comforts of cool foundation being pressed into his skin and the soft bristles of brushes skittering across the contours of his face. As the makeup went on, he let it be the mortar with which he built up the walls that let him be G-Dragon. 

His walls might as well have been made from rice paper, however, because they couldn't seem to stop him from straining his hearing for any sound that might float over from the enclosed corner of the room. 

"Thank you, Hyunsuk-hyung. I know this is unexpected. I'll make it up to you someday, I promise."

Jiyong jerked in his chair when Seunghyun spoke, his voice much too loud for his current state of attempted eavesdropping. He whipped his head around to stare, dumbfounded, at the image of the two older men bowing deeply to each other, hands clasped. 

What the _hell_ was going on?

"Jiyong-ssi!" Emiko scolded, grabbing a makeup cloth and setting out to fix the mess his sudden movement had made of his left eyebrow. 

Seunghyun rose up from the bow, his eyes finding Jiyong's from across the room. He frowned at the older man, begging him with his eyes to just _tell_ him something. _Anything_. But Seunghyun just retreated back into his cave where he remained until Jiyong was dressed and fluffed and all five of them were being called to their marks.

The columns rose under their feet as the first few notes of Bang Bang Bang thumped through the packed stadium, mixing with the roar of the crowd. Adrenaline soared through his veins as Youngbae brought his mic to his lips and shouted, 

"Seoul, are you ready?"

The roar became deafening as Jiyong called out, 

" _Hands up_!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics in chapter image from Where Did the Party Go - Fall Out Boy  
> Come see me on tumblr [hoseokie-jung ❤︎](http://hoseokie-jung.tumblr.com/)


	5. WAYMENT

* * *

 

_WAYMENT_

_[verb]_

_1\. lamentation; grief; mourning; expressions of anguish._

_Etymology: from Old English waymenten._

* * *

  _"Wow, Fantastic Baby!"_

The collective shout of the audience echoed throughout the stadium as the song finished.

"Yeah," Daesung shouted, "that was our last song!"

A groan from the audience, a denial.

"Aw, hyung!" Seungri whined, hanging off Jiyong's shoulders, "can't we sing a few more songs?"

Jiyong laughed, resting an easy arm around the younger man's waist

"Maybe.."

The cheer from the audience had him chuckling. As much as he loved touring, loved seeing new places and meeting distant fans, nothing could compare to the feeling of performing on their home turf.

"Yes, yes. You all want as much time with our boys as possible."

Jiyong started, turning in a circle looking for the source of Hyunsuk's voice. He found him, crossing the main stage from one of the wings.

The five of them stood on the central stage, surrounded by the audience on all sides save for the thin walkways connecting the sets.

Three of his members looked just as confused as he felt. The fourth, however, was already making his way down one of those walkways back towards the main stage.

As he walked, Seunghyun drew his fingers gently across the outstretched hands of fans, soothing confused shouts of "Oppa!" and "What's happening?".

Jiyong stood there, struck dumb by the wrench in his concert gears. Seunghyun stepped up onto the main stage and shook hands with President Yang.

"Our T.O.P has news for you, his fans." Hyunsuk said, gesturing for Seunghyun to step forward and speak.

"My V.I.Ps," the audience was silent, quieter than Jiyong ever thought possible. "Do you know what you mean to me?" Seunghyun smiled out at them, a soft sort of smile that made Jiyong's heart ache. "I am sorry to do this to you. You know how Oppa is, how sometimes he needs to do what is least expected of him. My dear V.I.Ps, next week I will be enlisting."

The sound barrier broke, Jiyong would swear before God and every deity in the Muism pantheon that it sounded like a sonic boom ripped through the stadium. The collective shout of denial at the unexpected declaration crashing from their fans' throats in a cacophony of sound.

Or maybe that was just the cracking of his own heart, the shattering reverberating up from his chest to echo in his ears.

\---

Jiyong was in a closet.

The irony of that did not escape the scrambled remains of his mind, rather, the fact simply floated around his head with the rest of his disjointed thoughts. Powerless to move him.

Seunghyun was _leaving_.

The mop bucket he was sitting on was starting to hurt his ass and his lungs burned for a cigarette.

Seunghyun was _leaving_.

He could hear them looking for him. Soonho, Seungri, and Youngbae. He'd finished their encore like a good little puppet, the lyrics of Until Whenever still bouncing around in his head along with everything else. He'd finished the set and exited the stage. He let the press of bodies; dancers, stage crew, and staff, separate him from the other four and he'd simply.. Walked away. Deep into the bowels of the stadium until he found an unlocked door.

The smell of floor cleaner was overwhelming and he briefly wondered if maybe he could pass out from the fumes if he inhaled deep enough.

_Seunghyun was leaving._

He didn't know why he was so shocked. They all had to go eventually. This was just so.. Sudden. So painfully sudden.

At least everything sort of made sense now.

The next few years, he'd said. Two years to be exact.

Two years, Seunghyun would be gone. Starting _next week_ Seunghyun would be gone for _two years._

Two _fucking_ years, and he didn't even have the decency to mention it to him?

Jiyong could feel the burning pressure of anger building up in his chest, mingling with his insane need for nicotine. His eyes burned, too, but he was stubbornly blaming that on the fumes, refusing to cry over Seunghyun. Again.

Footfalls passed by outside.

"Ji?"

Soonho kept walking and Jiyong congratulated himself on his prime choice of a hiding place. It was so pathetic, hiding in a janitor's closet, that they didn't even think to look for him there.

Suddenly, he couldn't take the enclosed space anymore. The silence and the darkness.

He stood and opened the door quietly. The hall outside was just as quiet, safe for the distant echo of Youngbae calling his name and the hum of electricity.

Jiyong set off down the corridor, golden light directing him back towards the more populated areas. He moved silently, dodging behind equipment when ever anyone happened to look his way until finally he reached their dressing room.

Daesung and Seunghyun were inside. Daesung looked upset. Seunghyun just looked angry.

"He's a fucking brat. He's _selfish_! He can't just run off like this. What if some crazy fucking fan grabs him? We'd never know! Just so he can go off and have one of his _tantrums_."

"You don't mean that, hyung. What did you expect? You had to know this would hurt him."

"What I _expect_ is for him to act like a god damn _adult_."

Jiyong gritted his teeth against the crushing pressure in his chest, stepping fully into the room.

"Sucks when people don't tell you things, doesn't it?"

The two men started at the sound of his voice. Jiyong could tell by the look on Daesung's face when he saw him that he looked as wrecked as he felt.

"I'll.. I'll just give you two a minute."

He left, casting one last worried look over his shoulder. Jiyong was left standing face to face with Seunghyun. The anger on the older man's face slipped away, leaving him looking tired instead.

"Jiyong-"

"So, what? You're just leaving? We're not going to talk about this?"

Seunghyun sighed, "I already talked to Yang."

"I meant BIGBANG! It never crossed your mind that maybe we deserved to know that you were going to be gone for two fucking years starting next fucking week?" His hands fisted in the hem of his shirt, knuckles white from his grip.

"What I do in my private life is my own business."

Jiyong felt that ever present hysterical bubble of laughter creeping back up his throat,

"Oh, I know, trust me. Speaking of your private life, what about us?"

"What about us?"

The casual off-handed way he said it sent a spike of panic straight through Jiyong's heart.

"Didn't I deserve to know?" He asked, trying not to let his hurt bleed through into his words.

"You're not my boyfriend, Jiyong. I thought you understood this." Seunghyun gestured in between them.

Jiyong choked, hands rising shakily to shove through his hair.

"Seunghyun.."

"I'm tired of this, Jiyong. This was a mistake. I was right the first time, when I ended it. This simply doesn't work, this thing between us."

The world around him took on an odd quality. Everything was too bright, too loud. He could hear his own breath rattling in his ears, too fast, too shallow. It registered vaguely in his mind that he could hear Youngbae and Seungri outside, demanding that Daesung let them in, but their voices sounded distorted and far away, like when you had your head underwater.

"You stayed!" He shouted. At least, he'd meant to shout. He wanted to shout. His lungs burned with the need to scream, but his voice betrayed him and his words came out more like a broken sob "You _stayed_."

They both knew what he was talking about; that night in Japan.

"I shouldn't have done that." Seunghyun shook his head. "Obviously, I made things complicated again, I'm sorry for that." His voice sounded so matter-of-fact, so resigned to his mistake.

Because that's what Jiyong was, wasn't he?

Choi Seunghyun's biggest mistake. His dirtiest secret. Years of his life wasted. The partner he couldn't bring home to his family. His one regret. His life long _fuck up_.

Jiyong's heart raced and his fists begged to lash out at something solid. He lifted his head, ready to hurl every insult under the sun at the man standing before him, when he met his eyes and saw.. Nothing.

Not a thing.

He looked _bored_.

"You said you loved me." Jiyong whispered, a last ditch effort to drag an emotional response from the older man. And he got it alright, because now Seunghyun look _annoyed_.

"I shouldn't have done that, either."

That was it. No explanation, no apology. Just 'I shouldn't have', like those words hadn't meant _everything_ to Jiyong. Like he could just _take them back_.

"Fuck you." He said, dazed.

"Don't be a child, Jiyong."

"Fuck you!" He finally found his voice, the words leaving him in a hoarse shout. A snatched a stylist kit from a nearby table and flung it at the older man. The heavy metal case crashed to the floor between them, followed by the sound of someone scrambling to open the door seconds later.

The other three stumbled into the room, Seungri's hand wrapping around Jiyong's elbow. He wasn't entirely sure if the gesture was meant to be comforting or meant to hold him back.

Seunghyun came back to himself, tearing his eyes from the broken case on the floor, its contents spilled across the concrete like some sort of modernistic gore. The older man pushed past them all as he made his way out of the room.

"Fuck you." Jiyong whispered one last time.

Seungri dragged him to the couch as Daesung ran after Seunghyun. Jiyong collapsed onto the couch, face buried in the younger man's lap as he felt the first heaving sob come over him.

Youngbae perched on the edge of the couch, rubbing his back awkwardly. His voice was low and soothing, but Jiyong didn't actually hear what he said. He just let it roll over him in waves.

It was close to an hour later when Daesung came back. Jiyong's sobbing had stopped, but he still hadn't moved from his place on the couch. Seungri's fingers were combing through his hair, but Jiyong was fairly certain the two men thought he'd fallen asleep.

"Is that it then? Did they break up for good this time?" Youngbae asked, standing from his place on the couch as soon as Daesung entered the room.

"I think so. I told Seunghyun he needed to do something about them, but I didn't think he'd do _this_." At least Daesung sounded sad.

"So what now? How are they suppose to work together after this?" Youngbae sounded frustrated. Jiyong knew he'd never voice his real opinion if he knew he was awake.

"Two years is a long time, and they've done it before."

"Yeah, but look how long it took to put him back together last time. It was ages before we could get anything decent out of him! I'm telling you, _this is it_. We're over. I _told them_ this whole relationship thing was a bad idea. It was stupid to being with! They-"

Seungri flattened his palm over Jiyong's ear, his other ear pressed firmly against the other man's thigh. The fish tank feeling returned, Youngbae's voice distorted and mute. Of course Seungri knew he was awake. Of course he would try to shield him from his best friend's angry words. Of course.

Incredibly thankful for the gesture, Jiyong wished, not for the first time, that he hadn't fallen in love with the wrong Seunghyun.

\---

He didn't want to go to the enlistment ceremony.

In fact, he had _refused_ to go at first.

"You have to go."

The muscle twitching in Hyunsuk's jaw was the only indication of his anger.

"You're the leader. If you don't go, the fans will be upset. They'll think you don't support him."

"I _don't_ support him!"

"Jiyong!" His voice was sharp and Jiyong let his head fall forward, contrite. "I know this is hard for you, but enough is enough. I've let this game between you and Big Seunghyun go on too long. There's nothing you can do. He's enlisting, and he couldn't back out now even if he wanted to. And frankly, I don't think he wants to."

Jiyong felt the burn of tears behind his eyes and in his sinuses, but he refused to let the tears fall in front of his boss, his hyung. Hyunsuk came around his desk, resting a heavy hand on Jiyong's shoulder. His voice was firm, but not unsympathetic.

"I've told you before that this thing between the two of you would come back to bite you in the ass, Jiyong-ah. It seems to me that Seunghyun is ready to move on. He's done playing this childish game. It's time for you to grow up, as well, son. I refuse to let you sit at home like a teenager who had his confession rejected. You're going to stand there like the leader I know you are, wish him luck, and never let him see you cry again. Understand?"

Jiyong bowed, "Yes, sir."

And that was how he found himself standing on a raised platform in front of the enlistment office, dressed in a somber suit, hair coiffed expertly, lacking his usually assortments of rings and bracelets, sans any noticeable makeup, surrounded by reporters and screaming, crying fans.

He stood to one side with President Yang, Youngbae, Seungri, and Daesung while Seunghyun stood to the other, head freshly shaven, with his mother, sister, and nephew.

The recruiter made a pretty speech about what an honor it was to serve your country and how more people should follow Seunghyun's example. Years of schooling his features in front of cameras was the only thing that kept Jiyong's sneer from gracing the nightly airwaves.

Seunghyun stepped forward to speak, but Jiyong let his mind wander. He couldn't hear this. He couldn't hear the platitudes the older man would feed the crowd, their fans watching from around the world. He couldn't hear them get comforting words when all he got was nothing.

Seunghyun was turning towards them. He clasped Youngbae's hand, the shorter man clapping him on the back and wishing him luck. Daesung bowed his head in prayer, holding Seunghyun's hand to his heart as he murmured. Seunghyun smiled at him fondly and thanked him. Seungri made a big show of wishing him farewell, ever their maknae, ever their saving grace.

"I'll miss you, hyung!" He wailed, loud enough for the cameras to hear as he wrapped his arms around Seunghyun's neck.

"I'll miss you, too, Seungri-yah."

Then it was Jiyong's turn. As Seunghyun stepped in front of him, he could almost imagine a sadness, a sort of longing in the other man's gaze.

Seunghyun reached for his hand, to shake it he supposed, but suddenly Jiyong couldn't stand the thought of touching him. Not like this, not where everyone could see. So instead he fell into one of his perfect bows, and slowly Seunghyun bowed, too.

"Goodbye." Jiyong murmured.

"Goodbye." Seunghyun, replied.

And then he was turning, he was hugging his mother, his sister. He was promising his nephew he'd be back to play with him soon, asking him not to miss him too much while he was gone.

He was turning toward the cameras and the crowd.

Seunghyun bowed to them all and then it was over. They were leading him away, he was entering a unmarked car that would take him to whatever base he'd been assigned to for basic training.

He was gone.

Jiyong sucked in a great, shuddering breath. Youngbae tucked him under his arm, smiling easily at the cameras and waving to fans. Their own car pulled up and they slipped inside. Silence descended upon the five men as they rode together towards the office and their own vehicles.

"Jiyong-ah, do you want me to come over?"

"No, Seungri." He sighed, "I just want to be alone."

Yang frowned but Jiyong ignored him.

The car pulled into the parking garage and Jiyong climbed out,

"I'll text you later." He mumbled to Youngbae, nodding to Seungri and Daesung, before climbing into his Bentley.

His ride home was surprisingly quiet. This wasn't so bad, maybe he could do this after all.

The ride up in the elevator was pretty easy. As long as he didn't look too long at the left corner and think about all the times Seunghyun pressed him up against that wall, directly in the security camera's blind spot, because he was too impatient to wait until they got home before he kissed him.

Unlocking his front door was a bit more difficult. He could almost imagine the ghosting weight of Seunghyun's hands on his hips, right where they always rested as he waited for Jiyong to open the door.

Tossing his keys into the bowl beside the door and toeing off his shoes had a lump forming in his throat for reasons he couldn't even explain.

Jiyong walked back to his bedroom and stood in the doorway, staring into the shadowed space. He shoved an ineffectual hand at the tears tracking down his cheeks. He moved into the room and sat on the edge of his bed, on the side that Seunghyun had always claimed was his.

He curled up onto his side, hand digging into his pocket of his slacks for his phone. He knew Seunghyun didn't have his, that they'd taken it and he'd only get it back on occasion to call family and post government approved Instagram updated about how great it was to be in the military.

Jiyong sent him a text anyways

 

**From: Kwon Jiyong  
Sent: 16:30, March 13 2016**

I hope some 18 year old country

asshole shoots you in the foot

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics in chapter image from Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner - Fall Out Boy  
> Come see me on tumblr [hoseokie-jung ❤︎](http://hoseokie-jung.tumblr.com/)


	6. RUNAGATE

_ _

* * *

 

_RUNAGATE_

_[noun]_

_1\. vagabond._

_2\. fugitive; runaway._

_3\. a deserter; apostate; renegade; renegate._

_Etymology: alteration of obsolete renegate, influenced by run and agate, “on the way”, from Middle English, from Mediaeval Latin renegātus._

* * *

From Seoul they had a two hour drive to Chungcheong. Seunghyun had plenty of time to think; and think he did.

His last week had passed in a blur. He'd been so busy since the farewell concert he hadn't had much of a chance to sleep, let alone stop and think about what he was doing.

He'd let his shock over Jiyong's reaction shift to a weird sort of angry haze in his brain. He let is settle over him like a mantle, let it drape over his form like a second skin, let it meld with his very bones.

In all their years together, as a couple, as lovers, as exes, they had _never_ raised a hand to one another in anger. Had he wanted to knock Jiyong against a wall before? More than once. Had he seen that light in the younger man's eyes that said he'd like nothing more in that moment than to deck Seunghyun? Absolutely. It was human nature to want to lash out at the thing that was winding you up. Fight or Flight.

The important thing was neither of them has ever _acted_ on it before.

Sure, they'd thrown words at each other like knives, aiming with a precision an assassin could envy. They'd gotten right up in each other's faces and screamed for all they were worth. Every insult and swear word they'd ever learned. They were both, after all, master wordsmiths. It was only natural that words, and not their fists, would be their weapon of choice.

Which is why he still couldn't believe what had happened, couldn't get the image of that stylist's kit crashing to the floor out of his head. The tubes of concealer and sticks of eyeliner rolling across the concrete. The cracked cakes of foundation and the puffs of powder that burst free of the brushes on impact and floated through the air to surround them.

The kit had been too heavy, a colossal metal case filled with expensive make-up, for Jiyong to actually hurt him with it. There was no way he would have been able to heave it at him from all the way across the room. No, it was more the fact that Jiyong had reached his limit, that he had wanted to lash out at him and that for once he had acted on that desire. That disturbed him to his core.

It scared him that he could break Jiyong that way. It scared him that he had that kind of power over the other man, an ability to put visible cracks in the careful crafted armor Jiyong wore. That he could push and pull him into reacting in a way that was so out of character for him. It _scared_ him.

So he was angry instead.

Or at least he had been.

He'd been mad all the way up until he'd turned to Jiyong on the platform to bid him a stiff farewell and he saw the look on his face.

That controlled, plastic, _glazed_ look that Jiyong got when he was distancing himself from something he didn't want to deal with or _couldn't_ deal with.

Out of all the things they'd said to each other lately, of all the harsh moments that had passed between them in the last three years, for some reason _that's_ what broke Seunghyun's heart. That's what made him hesitate, for the first time, and think that maybe he wasn't doing the right thing after all.

Jiyong. Standing there, in front of him and the entire world, hiding behind his mask and pretending like his heart wasn't breaking.

Seunghyun felt like someone had punched him in the gut.

He'd almost hugged him. Reaching forward to take his hand, to pull the smaller man into his arms, but suddenly Jiyong was bowing, so Seunghyun had bowed, too.

His last words to him had been a stilted 'Goodbye' that could never convey the way his stomach was roiling in panic, and his last glimpse of his face had been of that haunted look in his eyes.

He wished their last kiss hadn't been in the midst of one of their tryst, with Seunghyun keeping himself aloof and distant.

He wished he'd gone home with him that last time he'd asked.

Steeling his resolve, Seunghyun settled back into the dark upholstery of the military car and closed his eyes. He had made his choice, there was no backing out now. This was for Jiyong's own good in the long run, of that he was sure.

He just wished that Jiyong didn't have to hate him for this to work, but he did.

He'd made that mistake before, thinking a little time, distance, and callousness on his part would make Jiyong lose interest in him, but he never did.

And Seunghyun couldn't stay away.

This time, he had no choice but to stay away, and Jiyong would move on, because Seunghyun hadn't given him any reason to hope, right?

\---

The first thing Seunghyun saw when they pulled up to the Nonsan Korean Army Training Center was the high walls that surrounded the base.  There was an archway with heavy gates where the road met the fence, and the sides of the road were lined with people. Fans, it seemed, as he could see his own name on the signs in their hands. Not only his name, there seemed to be an actor's name mixed in there as well. Not one he was acquainted with, but the name, Park Donghoon, sounded vaguely familiar.

They shouted out as the car passed, asking who was inside. His driver, a stoic looking man in crisp military dress, kept the car moving, his face a mask of stone. Seunghyun half-heartedly wished he could reassure those who had come out to see him, but he let it go like he was sure he was going to be letting a lot of things go in the coming weeks.

The field in front of the compound was filled with people. Hundreds of families bidding their loved ones goodbye. Crying mothers and girlfriends flanked by proud fathers clapping their sons on the back, reminiscing about their own days in the army. Some of the sons looked excited, but if he was being honest with himself, most of them looked kind of nauseous. And young.

 _God,_ they looked young.

Seunghyun thought, looking at all the baby faced teens and twenty something around him, about the trainees at YG, Jaewon and Yedam, about Ikon and Winner. He tried to imagine Chanwoo firing a gun or Taehyun on a 30km march and he couldn't wrap his head around the idea. He couldn't wrap his head around _himself_ doing any of that, honestly.

The officer that had been sent to escort him to base got out of the car and Seunghyun followed, the rucksack they'd given him that contained his personal belongings (two changes of civilian clothes and one framed picture were allowed) slung over his shoulder.

The man lead him into the main building where he signed a whole slew of papers effectively signing away the next twenty-one months of his life. He was finger printed and had a few photos that felt suspiciously like mugshots taken for their files, before, finally, he was lead back outside.

The same man (who had yet to introduce himself properly) led Seunghyun around the building where the real face of his new existence came into view. Men stood in straight lines as senior officers prowled up and down their ranks, yelling and shouting. Men ran obstacle courses off on the horizon. Seunghyun could hear someone calling off the steps of a march coupled with the sounds of a platoons worth of booted feet moving in unison. In the distance, he could hear the pop of gunfire, and from even farther away, the occasional rolling thunder of a practice grenade detonating.

As they walked, the man gestured;

"There's the mess hall." He said, jerking his thumb at an out building. "The bath house, the laundry, officers' quarters." Seunghyun nodded, noting each of the locations in his mind.

The man stopped suddenly, yanking open the door of a long, metal roofed building, and stepping inside. Seunghyun followed, and was greeted by the sight of a dim hallway lined with plain numbered doors. He was lead to door number eight out of ten.

"This is your barracks. We made good time from Seoul, you're the first one here. The others in your unit should be joining you shortly, after check-in ends." The man clapped Seunghyun on the shoulder briskly, "Welcome to the military, son."

And then he was left alone.

He stood there for a moment, at a lose for what to do. The room was small, barely larger than your standard issue hotel room. A wooden platform ran along one side, thirteen cubbies lined the wall. Each cubby consisted of a area to hang clothes, three bare shelves, and a small cupboard with a lock on it. The cupboards were marked with a tiny placard that displayed their name, rank, and other vital information on the door.

He quickly found his own name, near the end farthest from the door, and unpacked his things. He placed his civilian clothes, simple jeans and t-shirts, inside the cabinet which already contained his military issued toothbrush and other hygiene necessities.

Seunghyun placed the framed picture on the lowest shelf.

He'd probably broken the rules a bit when it came to the picture, but he didn't really care. The frame was divided in half, on one side his mother, sister, and nephew smiled up at him, and on the other, was the band. The picture was from the most recent MNet Asian Music Awards, and it was fan taken, but he loved it. Loved it more than any professional shot the group had ever taken.

In the picture, they all sat around on those hideous, horribly uncomfortable metal chairs. The award for Best Music Video sat on the table between them. Youngbae in that awful tie-dye jacket and Jiyong with those stupid fucking braids, but they looked _happy_. Jiyong was leaning forward, smiling and talking with his hands and he looked absolutely beautiful. Daesung and Seungri were laughing and Youngbae was listening to whatever Jiyong had to say attentively, but what he liked most about the picture was his own face. Because the photographer had managed to capture him in an open, unguarded moment. A moment where he was watching Jiyong talk with this warm, affectionate sort of fascination written plainly on his face for all the world to see.

Maybe it was his way of bringing a picture of the two of them with him without being blatantly obvious about it. A moment hidden inside a moment. A picture of the four most important people in his life, but also a picture of Jiyong at his best, radiant and open and beautiful. At least he could have that.

Voices in the hall outside startled him out of his own head, and Seunghyun tore himself away from the frame. Standing in front of his place on the platform, he schooled his features into a mask of indifference and waited.

The door opened and a group filed in, talking quietly amongst themselves. Quite a few of them did a double take upon first seeing him, their expressions ranging from impressed, to excited, to confused. There were even a few disdainful sneers in the mix.

One young man broke free from the group. He walked right up the Seunghyun, offered a quick bow, and then extended his hand to him flashing him a smile composed for perfectly straight, white teeth.

"Park Donghoon, Haedoji Entertainment. T.O.P, right?" The man laughed, "Although I guess Choi Seunghyun is probably more appropriate here. I'm a big fan."

"Uh." Seunghyun blinked, shaking the man's hand, "Thanks."

This, he figured, must be the actor the fans had been waiting for outside.

"Don't worry if you can't say the same. About being a fan, I mean. I doubt you're a follower of 'My Loveliest Daughters'. Doesn't seem like your kind of program." The younger man winked.

Seunghyun laughed, then, remembering seeing ads for a drama about a poor man who's wife had died, leaving him with the task of marrying off his 4 ditzy daughters to good matches. The main premise of the show was the spinster matchmaker he hires falling in love with the oldest daughter's intended, played by Donghoon.

"Ah, no, I'm afraid I've never seen it." He apologized.

"Not like I expected you to be into dramas, right? That's more G-Dragon's thing, isn't it?" The man laughed, and Seunghyun bristled.

"What's that suppose to mean?" He asked, trying to keep his tone even.

"What?" Donghoon asked, startled, "Oh, nothing, I just remembered Seungri-ssi saying something about them bonding over dramas on a program last year. Happy Together? I figured he might still watch them."

Seunghyun relaxed, mentally chiding himself. He was going to have to get use to people openly talking about the other members here. Obviously people were going to be curious. And Jiyong was their hot topic, the one everyone loved to hate. Of course they were going to talk about him. Seunghyun was going to have to learn to let it roll off him like rain if he wanted to make this stay in this tiny room any more enjoyable for himself. He smiled,

"Oh, yeah. They both still really like their dramas. Keep the rest of us awake on tour watching them."

"You just got off a tour, right? Bet you the first few weeks will be easy for you, am I right? You're still in shape from being on tour. And, lets be honest, it's not like we all haven't seen what you're packing around under all those layers." The guy laughed again, and Seunghyun tried not to cringe. He could tell by the mirthful, teasing light in the other man's eyes that he wasn't trying to goad him, he was just making honest conversation. Not everyone knew how uncomfortable he was with the scenes from Tazza 2 that showed off his body.

"We'll see." He said, casting his eyes around the room. The other guys were standing there in little huddles, watching them like they were a movie all on their own. He cleared his throat, stepping past Donghoon and bowing to the room at large,

"Hello, I'm Choi Seunghyun. It's an honor to be serving with you."

Slowly, the other men bowed back, a few of them doing no more than inclining their heads, but Seunghyun would take it. He only had to survive six weeks here, then he would get his official assignment and move on to a new base.

A few of them came up to grasp his hands, whispering their names and their status as a fan to him before searching out their names on the cupboard doors.

The door opened again. A young man stepped in, dressed in fatigues, and watched them mill around the room for a few moments before speaking.

"Men!" He called out, the ones who hadn't noticed him yet whirling around in surprise. "Welcome to Nonsan. I'm your _Hasa_ , Drill Sergeant Ho Sangmin. This is your unit. This building houses your platoon. There are 4 other Drill Sergeants in charge of this platoon. You'll meet them tomorrow morning when we take a trip to medical and to the supply depot to get your first set of uniforms for physical training. As of today you are all _Jangjeong,_ Private Second Class. From this day forward, when in the presence of a ranking soldier, you will not speak unless spoken to. You will not laugh. You will not smile. You will keep your eyes trained forward and your posture straight. You will reply with 'Yes, sir.', 'No, sir.', your name and rank when asked. If you are lucky, you'll soon pass your written exams and move up to _Ilbyeong,_ Private First Class. Moving up means more privileges, more freedom. Do you understand?"

Seunghyun's voice joined the others in a chorus of "Yes, sir."

"Get some rest, men, your mats are under the platform at each of your places. I suggest you sleep and not chit chat too much, wake up call is four o'clock in the morning, sharp."

They all stood there, still as stone, until the door closed behind him, and then they released a collective breath. They all stood there for a moment more, looking at each other awkwardly, before Donghoon opened his cupboard door and grabbed his bag of toiletries.

"Well, I don't know about you lot, but I'm going to go grab a shower and brush my teeth. Who knows when the next time we have an opportunity to get a proper shower will be?" He said cheerfully, throwing his military issued sweats and t-shirt over his shoulder and sauntering out the door.

Seunghyun stared after him for a moment, before turning back to the room. More than a few hostile stare were being aimed his way and suddenly he really wanted a shower. He grabbed his own things, slipping out the door to catch up with the younger man.

"Thought I'd join you..." he mumbled, pushing the door at the end of the hall open, "after you." he said.

They headed off across the darkening grounds towards the bathhouse they'd been shown on their way in. Luckily, it appeared to be empty, no other new recruits having decided to bathe just yet.

Seunghyun needed to relieve himself before stepping into one of the stalls. The bath house was set up to accommodate both units and singles, with small private showers lining one wall and the other dotted with shower heads out in the open. Well, he knew that was coming, but he still shuddered at the thought. He stepped up to one of the urinals over by the sink and his eyes landed on a picture a fixed to the wall just below his eye level. It appeared to be some sort of chart and as he leaned forward to read it, he started to laugh. It _was_ a chart, comprised of little squares in a gradient from dark orange to yellow to almost clear. So you could compare your piss to it and make sure you weren't going to die of dehydration. What had he gotten himself into??

\---

The next morning started at four o'clock in the morning sharp, just like Drill Sergeant Ho had promised. They were roused from their sleeping mats, told to use the small sink and toilet off their room to clean themselves up, shave, dress in their sweats, and meet outside. Drill Sergeant Ho lined them into a formation and proceeded to give them their morning announcements. It was freezing and the sun was barely starting to peek over the horizon, but Drill Sergeant Ho's voice echoed across the dew covered grounds with authority.

"Good Morning, men! Memorize where you are in line. This is where I want you standing every morning when you wake up. You have thirty minutes to get out of bed, dressed and onto these grounds for morning physical training, or PT.  Then we eat breakfast, ten minutes tops to eat your food. If you've had time to taste it, you're done. I want you back out on these ground and in formation ready to march to the main compound for your classes. Your first few weeks will be spent in the classroom. You'll be learning field first aid, the basic mechanics of your fire arm, military protocol, and everything else you might need to know to survive out there." He walked down there ranks, speaking in his clear, calm voice, "Right now you're in what we like to call the 'Red Phase', You've been thrown head first into a new way of life, it takes a while to adjust. Your drill sergeants will decide on when your red phase is over, as a unit. Only then will you be allowed to move on to the 'White Phase'. Until you are in white phase, there will be no contact with the outside world, no phone calls, no magazine, no television. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

Seunghyun found it wasn't so much unlike his trainee days, being told when to wake, how to act, having his whole day planned out for him, living crammed in a room with a bunch of other guys. He was still the hyung, too, probably. Hell, it wasn't too far off from his life now, just with less wine, no bed, and he was back to having people boss him around.

Breakfast was a bowl of rice, kimchi, and a few scraps of mystery meat they were trying to pass off as chicken. Luckily, he got his down in ten minutes but others weren't so lucky.

The march to the medical clinic ended in an eternity of waiting. They were all given forms to fill out, but they ended up sitting there for hours holding them.

Shortly before lunch Seunghyun was finally called in and put threw a battery of tests. His eyesight, his hearing, his reflexes, weight, height, a couple of tubes of his blood. Two shots in his right arm and one in his left

It all culminated in a shot in the ass that made him light headed and gave him a charlie horse to rival the ache in his shoulders and back from sleeping on basically a one inch thick cotton yoga mat that was barely wide enough to accommodate the width of his shoulders. If he didn't die by morning he should be immune to every disease on the planet now.

At lunch they got rice and vegetable, but not much else.

After lunch they were marched to the supply depot where they stood in yet another line to be fitted for their uniforms.

Fitted was a bad word for it, actually, it was more like they asked you what size you wore then threw the closest thing they could find in that size to you. The pants he got were short in the ankle and his boots were a bit too big. They were issued a few more sets of PT clothing, shorts, long sleeved shirts and t-shirts, winter clothing.

Once everything with their uniforms was sorted out, they were all sent to pick up a field backpack from the line along the wall. The pack contained everything they would need on a march, load bearing vest, pistol belt with straps for their ammo and canteens, binoculars, portable communications devices, their body armor and kevlar helmets, an e-tool meant for digging trenches in the field, and something called a camelback, which was exactly what it sounded like, a tiny backpack they filled with water and wore on their backs during marches that they could drink out of with a tube so they didn't have to stop. There was also emergency shelter, sleeping bags, rain gear.. needless to say these things weighed a ton.

The thing was, no body seemed capable of shutting up. After the initial terror of their first morning had worn off, it seemed like everyone lost their heads. Seunghyun had to constantly remind himself that he was surrounded by kid fresh out of high school, but still. Every time a Drill Sergeant left the room they'd all start talking. It started quiet at first, but before long it became a dull roar and Drill Sergeant would stick his head through the door and everyone would fall quiet. But before long that stopped working, and the next thing Seunghyun knew he was experiencing his first smoking of the non-nicotine variety.

That's what they called it, smoking. Punishment for wrong doings in the eyes of the military lead to the offender being 'smoked'. They had them doing jumping jacks squats, push-ups, crunches; right there in the depot hallway. When it was over Seunghyun laid on the floor, ears ringing and head spinning. He honesty couldn't believe it when the stupid kids started whispering to each other again as soon as they caught their breath.

"Could you please _shut up_??" He hissed out, sitting up and aiming his most intimidating glare across the room at them. Most of them had the decency to look afraid, but one kid, one of the ones from his unit who hadn't been shy about his dislike for him, sneered,

"What? Too much for you, old man? I could go all day."

Seunghyun shook his head, the kid was barely eighteen. He went back to studying to contents of his new bag of equipment.

"See? I told you, he's all washed up." The kid said loudly, "That's why he's here. His music sucks and he acting isn't any better. Bet you he thinks he'll get to boss us around, huh? Just because he's an _idol_." The kid snorted, tossing him a derisive look, balking when he found Seunghyun's eyes trained on him yet again.

"Junyoung, right?" He asked, and the kid paled. "Listen, I don't want any problems. I'm here to do my service just the same as you-"

Another boy laughed, "Same as us?" He said. "How old are you? 29? 30? I just turned 18 three months ago. I _just_ graduated high school in May. I didn't have a _choice_ in coming here. My prospects were low, no college would take me. I couldn't get a job without the college degree and my family needed the money. So here I am. You get to leave after you serve out your mandatory time. Most of use? We're here for life. You're not like us."

"Shut up, Injun, he won't get it." The first boy, Junyoung, clapped a hand on the other kid's shoulder and with a last glare he lead him away from where Seunghyun was sitting.

He sat there, wide eyed, thinking over the boy's words. Was that how it was for these kids? They had no choice but to be here, even without the mandatory enlistment?

Someone sat down next to him, "Tough break, yeah?" Donghoon said, handing him his canteen. "Filled it up from the fountain in the hall. Have some."

"Yeah, tough break.."

The rest of the day was spent marching around the ground in his ill-fitting boots, learning what things like 'about face' and 'attention' meant, but Injun's words were never far from his mind.

\---

The next morning started off bad. One guy was late to formation and another forgot to shave, so their Drill Sergeant, a Drill Sergeant Myeong; who was a very short, very ill-tempered man, was already in a mood.

Today was their first PT Exam, called a 1-1-1. They had to run one kilometer as fast as they could, do as many push-ups as they could in one minute, and as many sit-ups as they could in one minute. Each person had a goal they had to reach by the end of basic based off their age, weight, and height.

It was a little after five am when they got started, and just like the day before the morning air was bitingly cold. They pointed them in the direction of a dirt track that ran the perimeter of the base and told them to run. It had been a long time since he'd run, preferring to stick with muscle training exercises. And he was a smoker. And he was notoriously lazy. But one look at the kids running ahead of him and he decided to suck it up. Lungs burning, sweat pouring off him in sheets, he managed to complete his circuit in a little under nine minutes. Not the best time in the world, but still not the slowest one there.

He did a little better on his push-ups, managing to complete thirty-six before they called time, and even better on his sit-ups rounding them off with a solid thirty-nine.

That was something he hadn't factored in, he thought, as he sat at the lunch table glowering at his tiny portion of rice. Smoking. Obviously, he wasn't allowed to do that here. He was going on forty-eight hours without a cigarette and the tiny demon gnawing on the back of skull was starting to give him a headache. He hadn't seriously tried to quit smoking since he was a kid, but apparently he had no choice now. No smoking, no alcohol. The headache had moved up between his eyes and was quickly becoming a migraine. He hadn't really considered the fact that him signing up for the military was also him signing up for an involuntary detox.

Fucking Perfect.

\---

The next day they got their guns.

After breakfast and PT, they were marched back to the depot where they were all issued their Daewoo K1A assault rifle, as well as their Daewoo K5 side arm.

Which was kind of cool, but quickly proved to be a pain in the ass. You could never put them down. Never.

You had to have them on you all day, and at night you had to lock them in the closet at the end of the hall in the barracks. The strap dug against his shoulder and the stock smacked against his hip if he didn't position the firearm just right across his back.

He also learned to never call it a gun. Ever. It was a Daewoo K1A Assault Rifle. K1A for short.

Calling it a gun resulted in a smoking that involved doing squats while holding said K1A over your head.

Nope, don't call it a gun.

"I bet this is nothing for you," Donghoon smirked as they sat on the floor of the large room that served as their classroom. There were no desks, no chairs. They were expected to stand during class, to memorize everything they were taught. Desks were only brought in for written exams. Desks were for wimps or something, apparently. Currently, they were learning how to load and unload the magazines from their rifles. They'd gone over an extensive power point walking them through what to do if their gun was for some reason not to fire. How to break down a gun, how to clean it, and now they're were putting it into practice.

"What do you mean?" He asked, already dreading the answer. Donghoon was... something. He was bright and effervescent and irritating and kinda dense.

"71: Into The Fire, man!" He said cheerfully, "You were covered in guns and ammo in that movie."

Seunghyun sat his rifle across his thighs and fixed the younger man with an exasperated stare. "Those were props."

"Oh."

"You're an actor..."

"Hey, the only props we use on _my_ set are champagne flutes!"

After lunch they were treated to a demo by the Drill Sergeants on the grounds. They learned that Drill Sergeant Ho might have been the cool, likable Drill Sergeant, but the short little troll that was Drill Sergeant Myeong could still kick his ass. The two of them put on a bit of a show, demonstrating modern hand-to-hand combat moves that were a play off both mixed martial arts and traditional Taekwondo. They showed them different holds and the best way to break free from or take down an opponent in a physical fight.

Then they paired them up and made them practice. Honestly, sitting on Donghoon and watching him squirm around trying to figure out how to throw of Seunghyun's balance was probably the most fun he'd had since he'd arrived there.

That night, Drill Sergeant Ho entered their room to make an announcement.

"Congratulations, men. You've finished your first week. Tomorrow is Sunday. Sunday's are 'free' days but don't think that means you can relax. PT in the mornings, and I expect the barracks to be cleaned top to bottom. You may attend church services here on base, if you are so moved. Since you've finished your first week, I think it's time we assign a Unit Leader. After careful observation, taking into account how quickly you can absorb information and any leadership abilities you may have displayed, I've decided that Private Second Class Park Donghoon will be your Unit Leader, and that Private Second Class Choi Seunghyun will be his second. That's all. Get to bed."

Fuck.

A position of leadership was NOT something he had wanted for himself during his stay in the military. In fact, he was so against it that he followed Drill Sergeant Ho out into the hall.

"Sir. I think you've made a mistake. Respectfully, sir."

The man turned to him and for the first time Seunghyun realized that they were probably close to the same age. That Sangmin was probably _younger_ than him.

"I don't think I did, Choi." He said, "You see, I like to make you Idol types leaders. Don't take this the wrong way, I don't give it to every bubble headed idiot that walks through the door with an entertainment contract under their belt. The thing is, you Idol people already know how to operate under stress. You think fast. You rarely make mistakes. You do well under pressure. You learn and you learn quick. Whether you're the leader of your group or not, every one of you knows how to lead a team. And, it keeps the other guys from using you as target practice. If you're their superior, they can still resent you, but they're not gonna gang up on you in the shower after a really hard day when they have no one else to lash out at."

"Sir.. I don't want any special treatment."

"It's not special treatment. I just told you, you are more than qualified for this position. Besides, you won't be thinking it's special treatment once you and Park have to start bossing those boys around. You're gonna hate this job, soldier, I just made you honorary eomma of 11 teenage boys." The man smirked at him before barking out a crisp "Dismissed!"

Seunghyun had no choice but to go back to his unit and prepare to be eomma.

\---

It was kind of hilarious how as soon as he and Donghoon had been appointed unit leaders, suddenly everyone thought they knew everything. One minute he was the 'old guy', next they were coming up to him in the lunch line asking him ridiculous questions like if he knew when they were going to sit their next PT exam or if he knew why their afternoon class had been changed from survival skills to field medicine. He had no fucking idea. None. His job was to make cleaning schedules, get their unit ready for inspection, organize the nightly rotation of the watch. It wasn't that he didn't try to scrounge up as much information as was possible, it was just that it was kind of hard when he wasn't exactly allowed to talk to anyone without permission.

That evening they were moved out of the red phase and into the white phase. As a reward, they were all given their phones and allowed 30 minutes to make as many phone calls as they wanted.

Seunghyun took his phone and wandered outside, out behind their barracks. He powered it on, swiping his finger across the lock screen, typing in his password. The message icon was red, but he figured it wasn't important. Everyone who mattered knew he was at Basic, it was probably someone trying to suck up, but who wasn't really aware of him enough to realize that he was gone. Ignoring it, he called his mother instead. It was a Wednesday night, and he couldn't be happier, since Wednesday was family dinner night. He got to talk to his mother and his sister for a bit, before fifteen minutes was up and he bid them farewell to call Daesung.

"Seunghyun-hyung?"

"Hey, Dae-ah. How are you?"

"How am I? Hyung! How are you?!" Daesung asked, his voice sounding more than a bit thick with tears.

"I'm fine, Daesungie. I'm fine. We're officially off probation so I should be able to call more often. Let the others know for me, alright? I don't have much time left to talk."

Daesung was silent for a moment, before he said, "Let all of them know you'll be calling, hyung?"

Seunghyun sighed, "Not him."

"We miss you hyung, _all_ of us."

"I miss everyone, too, Daesung-ah, I love you."

"I love you, too, hyung, please take care."

"I will."

After he hung up Seunghyun stood clutching his phone to his chest and wrestled with the urge to call Jiyong. He only had five minutes left before he had to turn his phone in. What could he say in five minutes?

Nothing. He shouldn't be calling anyway.

He went to power his phone off when the red message icon caught his eye again, and on a whim he opened it. Jiyong's name flashed across the screen and he held his breath as he scrolled down to the text and read

 

**From: Kwon Jiyong  
Sent: 16:30, March 13 2016**

I hope some 18 year old country 

asshole shoots you in the foot.

 

He gasped and then he was laughing, of course. Of _course._

The message was so like the younger man, snarky and sarcastic and full off ill-concealed venom. It was also all to revealing, a crass message sent to him mere hours after his departure. He could see him now, sitting in his room, debating over whether or not he should send it. Deciding to send it anyway...

Seunghyun was laughing,

but then he was crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: so I did as much research into the Korean military as I could without being flagged by Quantico for suspicious internet search activities. I found a couple of blogs by Korean-American men who chose to do their service to keep their citizenship and I combined their information with what I could find about basic training here in the states, so I apologize if this is in any way inaccurate. Hopefully this chapter wasn't too boring, next chapter will be MUCH more exciting, I promise. :) - Annie
> 
> Lyrics in chapter image from Young Volcanoes - Fall Out Boy  
> Come see me on tumblr [hoseokie-jung ❤︎](http://hoseokie-jung.tumblr.com/)


	7. SEUL

 

 

 

> _ _

* * *

 

_SEUL_

_[adjective]_

_1\. lonely, alone._

_2\. only._

_3\. single._

_Etymology: from Old French sol, soul, “alone”, from Latin sōlus, “alone, sole, only”._

* * *

The short nap seemed to do Jiyong a world of good.

When he woke up, nothing appeared to be anywhere near as bleak as when he fell asleep. He got out of bed, reheated some leftovers, and settled down on the couch to catch up on some t.v.

He returned some texts, browsed through his tag on Instagram, checked his work email.

Normal.

Everything was normal.

He was almost proud of himself when he passed the twenty-four hour mark without breaking down.

It had all been so innocent. One of his favorite fansites had posted a slew of new pictures. He'd assumed they were a few last minute edits from the farewell concert, but when he clicked on the gallery and started flipping through the pictures he was greeted not with a stage and bright lights, but with his own somber face that day on that platform. It was with a morbid sort of fascination that he moved through the photographs, scrutinizing his own face, trying to see if the void that had opened up inside him that day was visible from the outside.

He only saw his face break twice. Once in a downward shift of his brows, when Seunghyun turned to him, and again in the purse of his lips as he watched him climb into the car.

He snorted, _god_ , he was good at this. If it wasn't for the ridiculously high shutter speed the fan's camera possessed, he doubted the flickering changes in his expression would have been noticed by anyone. And even then, what did they tell people? The people who saw these pictures?

That he was mildly upset? Maybe a bit annoyed?

The downturned corners of his mouth did nothing to convey the whirlpool of emotion clattering around inside his skull or the painful seizing of his heart.

He closed his laptop with a snap and retreated to his bathroom. Maybe a warm bath would do him some good...

He turned on the water, adjusted it to a comfortable temperature, sought out his favorite bath oils, let his fingers drift lazily over his phone on the music dock, starting up a playlist meant just for moments like this.

He pulled his t-shirt up over his head, tossing it into the hamper by the door. His hands fell to his belt buckle, working it open, when he caught sight of himself in the mirror. Sickly pallor and wide, dazed eyes.

What was he doing?

The white noise in his head suddenly cleared up, like someone adjusting a radio dial, the unintelligible whispers becoming shouts in seconds.

Seunghyun is _gone_. He's _gone!_ A bath won't fix that. Nothing can fix that. He left you, he's **_gone._**

He stumbled out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, in search of something, anything, to turn to volume back down. To turn his thoughts back into mindless static.

He wrenched open a cabinet, palm latching around the neck of a bottle. The first swig of tequila, hot and straight from the bottle, sent a shudder ripping down his spine, but he quickly chased it with another, and another until finally he couldn't be bothered to care what it tasted like anymore.

Jiyong sat on the floor of his kitchen, shirtless and barefoot, belt half undone, bottle of tequila balanced between jean clad thighs.  
His back was pressed against the cold surface of his refrigerator, his head knocking out a steady rhythm on the metal as he hummed to himself.

His phone was in his hands, squinting at the screen, trying to make it stop swimming long enough to pull up a contact he hadn't used in a couple of months and send a text.

 

**From: Kwon Jiyong  
Sent: 22:55, March 14 2016**

how are you?

 

He saw the status of the message change to read, so he knew she'd seen it. He waited a few minutes before he tried again, a pout on his lips.

 

**From: Kwon Jiyong  
Sent: 23:02, March 14 2016**

i miss you

 

The same thing happened again  and his pout turned into a full on frown.

She was _ignoring_ him. He _hated_ to be ignored.

So he called her. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth as the phone rang. It rang twice before going to her voicemail. Not to be deterred, he hung up and called again.

This time it rang four times and just when he thought he was going to get her voicemail again, she picked up.

"Hello?'

"Kiko!" He sang, giggling.

"Are you drunk?"

"I'm trashed, babe." He laughed, looking at the half empty bottle between his legs.

She sighed, "What do you want, Jiyong?"

He frowned, "I told you, I miss you!"

" _Now_ he misses me." She grumbled, but Jiyong didn't hear her.

"Are you busy? Can I come see you? I can be there tomorrow." He asked, already planning to take her out to dinner and maybe a shopping trip after he landed.

"I don't think that's a good idea.." She said, sounding more and more tired the longer she was on the phone.

"What? Why not?"

"Jiyong... we broke up, remember?"

"...I remember."

"Then why are you calling me?" She asked, barely concealed annoyance coloring her tone.

He was at a loss for words at first before finally whispering,

"I don't want to be alone." His alcohol induced warmth was fading fast.

"Jiyongie.." Her voice was softer now, gentle. "You know I love you, right?"

"I know." He murmured.

"But I'm more than done with this. I'm done with being your second choice. I knew when we started this.. whatever this was.. that you loved him. But you said you loved me, too. I've spent the last three years watching you run to him every time he called, picking you back up after he dropped you again. This time he didn't just drop you, he pushed you off a skyscraper, and I can't do it anymore, Jiyong. It _hurts._ " He could tell she was crying, now, which was okay, because he was crying, too.

"He's gone." He started, "Kiko, we can start over. We can try again."

"Stop." She said, "I don't _want_ to try again. I _know_ he's gone. This is just another refrain of the same song the two of you have been singing all your lives. Things were finally getting serious between the two of you again and you _left me._ You didn't need me to be a placeholder in your life anymore. Now he's gone and suddenly you want me back? I know you, Jiyong. I probably know you better than anyone outside that dysfunctional group you call a band. You don't want me, you just don't want to be _alone_. You hate being alone. You always have."

"I love you, Kiko. I swear I do." If he could just make her see, if he could make her _understand._

"Baby, I know you do, but you don't love me the right way. I get it. I was convenient. I knew about you and Seunghyun, you could talk to me, and I was _there._ It was natural for our relationship to turn.. physical. _I get it._ I'm your constant. I listened." She took a deep breath, "I'll always be there for you, Jiyongie, but not like that. Not anymore."

He sat there for along time, clutching his phone to his ear, struggling to breathe, struggling to find the words to say.

"Are you still there?" She asked, concern lacing it's way through her words.

"Kiko, please.." He gasped. His voice cracked around the words but he was beyond caring.

"I'm sorry, Jiyong. _Please,_ take care of yourself."

And then she was gone, too.

\---

"Kiko dumped me." Jiyong slurred into the phone.

"I didn't realize you were still seeing Kiko-noona, hyung." Seungri replied carefully.

"I wasn't, we broke up." He squinted at the bottle on the table in front of him. From where his head lay on the table, the bottle looked a little over half full, but judging by the way he was seeing double, he highly doubted that could be true. "She dumped me for dumping her. She double dumped me. Is that a thing? Can you double dump someone? Is that like infinity times two?"

"I dunno, hyung."

Jiyong picked up the bottle and pouted when his suspicions were confirmed,

"You should bring me more Vodka, Ri-yah."

"Jiyong-ah, I don't think you need more vodka. Drink some water. Eat something."

"Yah! You're my dongsaeng. You have to do what I say!"

Seungri sighed on the other end of the line. "Alright, hyung. I'll see you in a bit."

When Seungri arrived he was lying in the middle of his living room floor, arms and legs in an unruly sprawl around him.

"Ri!" He giggled, waving at him from his place on the rug. Seungri eyed him for a minute before heading into the kitchen to put his bags down. Then he laid on the floor next to Jiyong, hands folded behind his head.

"So what are we doing?"

Jiyong shrugged, "I fell down."

"So why didn't you get back up?"

"Too much work. And I kinda like it. The light from the window looks cool on the ceiling. It's sort of like cloud gazing."

He was right. The sun was going down outside and as the light shifted the shadows shifted, too, creating different patterns on the plaster above his head.

Seungri nodded. He pointed above them, a bit to the left,

"That one kind of looks like a duck."

Jiyong was quiet for a minute before he asked,

"Did you bring my vodka?"

"I brought you soup."

He rolled over onto his side, staring at Seungri's side profile as the younger man continued to look up at the shifting shadows on the ceiling.

"Seungri-yah," Jiyong said softly, smiling a dopey smile when his bandmate turned his head to look at him. "Thank you."

"No problem, hyung."

\---

Jiyong stopped drinking after that.

He started spending all his time in his home studio instead. He'd promised Daesung an album and he was going to get one. Jiyong had a file for each member filled with songs, even if it was just a melody he couldn't get out of his head or a few lyrics that he felt suited them.

He spent hours in his studio pouring over tracks, recording demos, forgetting to eat, ignoring calls and texts, until the notes started to blur together and everything started to sound like shit. Then he'd crash. He'd sleep ten to twelve hours at a time, then he'd wake up feeling like death.

He'd drag himself into his kitchen, drink a shit ton of water, eat like a man starving, and swear to himself he'd never do it again.

But that whispering voice in his head wouldn't shut up, and when it started to scream like every beat of his heart existed purely to drive it's point home, like every pulse was accompanied by a quiet 'he's gone', he'd find himself back in his studio, listening to another track with the volume up too loud.

At some point he realized that it had been four weeks since Seunghyun had left.

A whole month.

Twenty more to go.

..and then what?

Jiyong turned the volume up another notch.

\---

He was laying in his bed when he heard his front door open.

You know how you can spend so much time with someone you can start to recognize them by weird things like the way they breathe? How they smell? Try spending fourteen years with someone.

Jiyong knew it was Youngbae just by the sound of his footsteps, light but still strong. He heard him go into the kitchen and Jiyong could see him in his mind's eye, opening the refrigerator and looking inside at it's meager contents of beer and whatever take-out Jiyong had ordered when he'd last felt up to eating. He'd realized sometime last week that he'd forgotten to to renew his grocery order, so they hadn't been delivered. He hadn't updated his staff, either, their schedule for the next few months left blank, so there was no chef to remind him he had nothing to cook. This wasn't unusual. He wasn't always here and neither was Dami. They didn't always need groceries or someone to cook them. He was sure no one at the agency had given it a second thought.

Except Youngbae, who he could still picture, standing there glaring into his empty refrigerator trying to decide how long it had been that way. He'd have that same annoyed-mom look on his face, the one he use to get when they were six kids stuck in a dorm together, who hadn't seen their manager in a week and a half. When they had to deiced how best to split a portion of rice between them that wasn't even enough for one person, let alone six teenage boys.

Jiyong heard him coming down the hall, heard his door swing open. The mattress dipped and the shorter man slide under the covers with him. An arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him close.

"Why didn't you call me?" He sounded sad and Jiyong didn't want him to be sad.

"You don't need my shit."

"Your shit is my shit.

"Gross." He smirked, earning himself a sharp poke in the ribs.

"I'm serious, Ji. You don't always have to call the maknae. I know I haven't always been the most supportive of you and Seunghyun-hyung, but that's just because I love you. I didn't want to see _this_ happen."

"You're happy. You and Hyo. I don't want to bring you down. You don't have time to hold my hand. You shouldn't _have_ to hold my hand."

"Shut up, you're so dumb."

"Gee, thanks." He scoffed, pinching the skin on Youngbae's wrist. Youngbae hissed and swatted his offending fingers away.

"Don't be a bitch. You know I'm right. You're making yourself into a martyr. You need to get out of this house, out of your head."

"I'm not ready."

"Ready for what? What are you waiting for, Ji? He's gone. When he comes back, what then? Would you really choose to do it all over again? Why would you want to do that to yourself? Are you going to lay in this bed until he decides to love you again?" Youngbae took a deep breath, "Because I'm going to be brutally honest with you here, man, I don't think he ever loved you to begin with. I think he thought he did. He might have even _wanted_ to love you, but I don't think he ever really did."

"Bae.." Jiyong let out a choked up sob, and Youngbae's fingers smoothed through his hair in response.

"Shh, I'm not trying to make you cry, okay? I just want you to understand what I saw. From an outsiders perspective. I can't watch you do this anymore. I don't want him to come back and do this to you again."

Youngbae rested his forehead against Jiyong's shoulder and he realized the other man was crying, too.

"God, you're so gay." Jiyong laughed weakly, swatting at his friend.

"Shut up."

\---

It seemed once he'd asked himself 'what next?' and refused to answer the question, the universe was determined to force an answer out of him.

First Youngbae, and now Dami.

Technically, Dami still lived with him, but when he was in Seoul, she tended to shack up, couch hop, go to visit their parents at the pension. She liked to give him his space, after all, they were adults. And what thirty year old woman wanted to know every little thing about her brother?

That being said, they were still alarmingly close.

It was one night late in the week when he was hell bent on losing himself in the music. He was close to being ready to call Daesung in and start laying down some sample vocals to get a feel for which songs the younger man liked.

That little voice in his head had taken to reminding him that it had been Daesung who had been the one to push Seunghyun into making a choice about their future. Jiyong was trying his best not to be bitter, but it was beginning to color his work.

He didn't want that he wanted to remain professional, objective, unbiased. He loved Daesung like a brother. He shoved his hands through his hair with a frustrated groan, grimacing at how greasy they came away feeling. He looked down at his ratty t-shirt and gym shorts, and decided that he desperately needed a shower.

He was in and out fast, and halfway through a much needed shave, clean track pants slung low on his hips, when a soft knock on his bedroom door drew his attention.

Dami was the only one who ever knocked.

"Noona?" He called out, "You can come in."

She appeared at the door to his bathroom then, her long brown hair pulled up into a messy bun that framed her face nicely, half a head or so shorter than him, dressed very chic in pieces from her own shop. She leaned against the door frame and watch him finish shaving. People often said they looked alike, that she was the female version of him. They had the same chin, the same lips, but his face was narrower than hers, angles and sharp lines where hers was rounded and soft. They had the same eyes, too, that shade of brown that was just a few shades lighter than most everyone else around them.

Jiyong rinsed his face, reveled in the sharp sting of after shave, before turning to her.

She took a step closer to him, raising a hand to his cheek. Her thumb skimmed across the dark half circle under his eye,

"Let me make you some tea, yeah?"

Jiyong nodded, slipping a clean t-shirt on as he followed her out into the kitchen.

He sat across from her at the bar, a cup of hot ginger tea warming his palms.

"How have you been?" Her voice was soft. He shook his head, shurgging his shoulders. How had he been?

"I've been better." Jiyong took a sip of his tea. "I've also been worse."

She nodded, hands clasped around her mug. "I'm sorry I wasn't here for you at first." Dami looked up at him imploringly, "I didn't know what you'd need. I _never_ know what you need when it comes to him. So I thought that the best thing I could give you was time."

He reached across the counter top, lacing their fingers together, "Dami, it's fine."

"I'm your noona, you should be able to rely on me."

_"Noona,_ I would not be here today without you. You've always been my biggest supporter, and I'm not talking about my career. Who helped me figure out a had a crush on Lee Hyuntae in middle school? Who told me that was okay? Who told me to stop worrying about how masculine I looked on stage, to just be myself, that the fans would love me anyway? Who told me it was okay to love Seunghyun when I thought I was fucking everything up for nothing, because I was so sure he was straight and he was never going to love me back? I can always rely on you, noona. You were right, I needed space. I needed time alone to self-destruct. It was so much easier to fall apart without you there to watch. Now I can focus on putting myself back together again."

She looked at him for a long moment, unshed tears standing in her eyes, glimmering in the low light. "So it this it, baby brother? Is this the end of the line for the two of you?" She looked so sad. So, so sad. And hopeful, too. He was beginning to wonder just how long his relationship had been hurting everyone else around him for her to look so sad. For everyone to want it to end so badly. He sighed, sighed and wanted more than anything to extinguish that worried light in her eyes.

So when he opened his mouth to speak, it was with a determination that startled even himself.

"Yeah, noona. This is the end."

Later that evening he sent Seungri a text.

 

**From: Kwon Jiyong  
Sent: 20:45, April 23 2016**

introduce me to someone

 

He was getting over Seunghyun, even if it killed him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: wow so GD's Without You came on as I was typing the exchange between Dami and Jiyong and I felt like that was really fitting. Bit of a short chapter. Anyway, my lovely subscribers, please do not abandon me, I promise this is a gtop story. I just need you to hang on a few more chapters. ;) Especially during this next part, please don't leave me, lol. I'm posting this now, I've edited to the best of my abilities and I'll spot edit after I get back from taking my youngest to the doctor so if you see any typos be the Mariah Carey gif and pretend like you suddenly can't read.
> 
> Lyrics in chapter image from The Mighty Fall - Fall Out Boy  
> Come see me on tumblr [hoseokie-jung ❤︎](http://hoseokie-jung.tumblr.com/)


	8. AMICITIA

 

* * *

 

AMICITIA

_[noun]_

1\. friendship.

2\. an alliance.

_Etymology_ : Latin, derived from _amīcus_ , “male friend”.

* * *

Basic Training was sort of how Seunghyun had always imagined prison would be. Everything he did was planned and monitored. Other than the men he shared a room with, he hadn't gotten to know a single other person, he'd been so busy. There was no time to even speak to each other, let alone have an honest conversation.

Busy wasn't even the right word for it. Most of the time they weren't even doing anything _important._ It was more like their hands were never allowed to be idle.

The craziest thing was the leaves. Outside the Officers' barracks there was a pristine little courtyard. Pristine because about once a week they found themselves clearing it of rocks, twigs, and leaves.. by hand. The whole platoon would be ushered into the space where they had to pick up these tiny leaves that fell from these ridiculous ornamental trees that ringed the perimeter. One by one. Every loose pebble had to find its way back into the flower beds, and every weed had to be pulled.

The Drill Sergeants were also beyond fond of 'shaking things up'.

Like for instance, one day they were told to clean the barracks from top to bottom, but halfway through Drill Sergeant Myeong burst through the doors screaming about 'movement training'. They were ordered into their heavy Kevlar vests and helmets, and marched out onto the physical training field over to an area about the size of a basketball court that, frankly, resembled a giant children's sandbox. Then, they were told to crawl, in full gear, from one end of the pit to the other. Usually, this wouldn't be that big of a deal.. except it had been raining for the last twenty-four hours and to properly execute the crawl the sergeants were asking for, they weren't allowed to lift their heads or bodies off the ground. They had to go down and and come back, and probably would have had to go back down the field again a third time if it hadn't started pouring again. A flash of lighting finished it off and Drill Sergeant Myeong herded them all into the showers.

"Two at a time, boys, two at a time!" He barked, "We don't have all day!"

When a couple of the younger men groaned and complained at the idea of a group shower, Myeong only cackled and called out,

"Don't worry, it's only gay if you're touching!"

Seunghyun resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Myeong was always making cracks about their supposed 'gayness'. Sometimes, Seunghyun couldn't decide if the guy was a homophobe, thought he was being witty, or was so far in the closet he couldn't see the light to find his way out.

Like the other day.

A group of school children from a nearby village was accepted onto base to make the soldiers milkshakes at lunchtime. It was a sweet gesture, one meant to reinforce ties between the general public and the military, foster lines of communication and friendship with cutesy pictures of soldiers and kids sharing a moment. Of course, it could never be so simple.

After they'd received their treats, they were given about five minutes total to eat them. After five weeks of nothing but rice, soggy vegetables, and the occasional bits of bland chicken no one was about to let a treat like that go to waste.

Myeong had stood by watching them suck down their milkshakes with a gleeful smirk on his face.

"This is the first time you boys have impressed me," he chortled, "You must make your boyfriends real happy."

Injun looked confused, glancing back and forth between his milkshake and Donghoon who grinned and made a lewd gesture, miming giving head.

The boy's ears turned red and Junyoung laughed.

"Gross." Injun muttered, staring at his milkshake like it might bite him.

Seunghyun really had rolled his eyes, then.

Today, he was covered head to toe in wet sand and all he wanted to do was clean up and get back to the barracks.

Of course, crawling through wet sand in full gear meant that you had to clean your gear. Incidentally, both the cleaning of the barracks and the shower they took ended up being pointless as everyone was forced to sit around with rags and tiny brushes on the floors as slowly every available surface became covered in a fine grit.

It was quiet, nothing but the sound of a dozen brushes gliding over cloth and the metallic clank of buckles and clasps. On of the older men, Keunsuk, spoke up, asking a rare personal question.

"Anyone here got a girl back home?"

Seunghyun snorted quietly to himself. He suddenly felt like he'd be transported onto the set of some sort of cheesy drama romanticizing serving in the military. Any second now they were all going burst out in song;

_I've got a girl back home who's unlike any other! (the only girl who'd love him is his mother)_

He should have brought his harmonica.

A few of the younger men nodded, and Keunsuk grinned.

"Bet mine's prettier than yours."

His claim was meet by a chorus of fervent denials.

"Oh, come on."

"Yeah, right!"

"I'm serious, look!" He hopped up onto their sleeping platform and pulled his picture frame off the shelf. He carefully removed the back of it and extracted a photo of a young woman from behind the more traditional family photo.

Looks like Seunghyun wasn't the only one who violated the picture rule.

The picture was one of those glossy headshot style glamour shots you could get taken in the mall where they did your makeup for free and let you borrow from their wardrobe, but the girl was obviously beautiful even without the cheesy lighting and pastels.

"There she is! My Chaeyoung. We've been married for three years now." He smiled sadly, "Met her in college and we didn't want to wait. I knew I still had to do my time here, but I couldn't stand the thought of her meeting someone while I was gone, of someone else sweeping her off her feet. She won't be alone, though, her mother is taking care of her for me until I can come back for her. We decided to start our family as soon as I get out. I can't wait, she'll be the most amazing eomma."

Seunghyun felt a lump forming in his throat and he looked away. Wasn't it selfish of Keunsuk to make her wait? For leaving her alone for two years to wait for him to come back? Wouldn't it have been better to let her go and let her live her life? If she was still there when he came back then it was meant to be, right?

This lead to a pile of similar photos in the middle of the platform. The guys were all laughing and shoving each other, arranging the photos in an approximation of 'hottest' to 'least hot'. This lead to a few scuffles as inevitably someone's wife or girlfriend or whatever was placed last. It was all in good fun though.

Seunghyun sat to one side, still cleaning his gear quietly. He'd glanced at the photos once or twice, breaking a tie once when they held the pictures up for him to chose. He had smirked, thinking to himself that Jiyong was infinitely more alluring than any of these girls, he had a quality about him that was.. ethereal. He was beautiful, a bewitching juxtaposition between femininity and masculinity. His refined features and slender frame at odds with his wide hands and broad shoulders. How one person managed to project the kind of self-image Jiyong did was beyond Seunghyun and he would never cease to be more than a little bit in awe of him.

He jerked, slamming the brakes on his thoughts like a man careening towards a cliff. Jiyong wasn't his to think about like this anymore. Jiyong's picture wasn't his to throw into the ring. He shouldn't, no,  _couldn't_ look at a stack of pictures of other men's lovers and think about Jiyong as if he was his own equivalent.

Jiyong wasn't his lover. Not anymore.

Someone nudged him and he looked up to see Injun peering at him with his owlish eyes.

"What about you, Seunghyun? You have a girlfriend, right?" The young boy flushed, like the idea of asking his elder such a question was so unthinkable.

"Ah, no. I-uh I don't date."

Boos and jeers followed his statement.

"Come on, Seunghyun! It's us! We're not gonna tell anyone."

"Nah, I bet he bangs a different supermodel every night. That's what he means, right, Seunghyun?"

Seunghyun felt his cheeks coloring and he laughed awkwardly.

" _No!_ No. I'm serious. I don't date. I just don't have the time.

Junyoung frowned, 

"I remember reading an interview you did a few months ago," The boy rubbed at the back of his neck, embarrassed to admit that he'd followed the idol before enlistment. "I remember you saying you'd only been in three relationships since debut. Is that true? I thought that was just one of those things that guy idols said to keep the fans happy."

He chuckled, "No, it's very true."

"So..." Junyoung's cheeks turned a bright red, flushing all the way down his neck. Seunghyun raised an eyebrow wondering what the kid could possible have in mind to ask that made him react in such a way. "How long has it been since.. you know..."

Seunghyun looked at him quizzically, he couldn't fathom what the poor boy was getting at for the life of him.

"He wants to know how long it's been since you fucked, Seunghyun!" Donghoon called out, before collapsing into a wheezing fit of laughter.

"Oh!" Seunghyun laughed as well and the poor kid looked so embarrassed that he decide to take pity on him, "Uh, not long? My last relationship was pretty... intense? On and off for a long time. We broke up again for the last time, right before I left."

'Broke up' probably wasn't the right term for what they'd done, but he wasn't about to get into that with them.

Junyoung looked excited,

"Oh, who was she? An actress? A model?" The kid was such a closet fanboy and Seunghyun found that incredibly vindicating after their first not so friendly encounter in the supply depot all those weeks ago. "You can tell us, we won't tell!"

Never the less, he shook his head.

"I'm sorry, they wouldn't be comfortable if I told you. It could mess with their career in a big way if it got back to the wrong people. Besides, you don't want know nearly as much as you think you do. The truth would be kind of... shocking." He smiled apologetically, mildly surprised at how candid he was being with them. His eyes skimmed across the room before finally coming to rest on Donghoon who was looking at him with a contemplative expression on his face. Their eyes met for just a moment and Seunghyun was uncertain of what he saw there.

Suddenly, Donghoon was pouting, calling out to the room,

"Hey! I'm an idol, too, you know! I'm an _actor_. How come no one is asking me how many models _I've_ slept with?"

\---

"Welcome to hell, men!" Drill Sergeant Ho called out, walking up and down their ranks. "Graduation is coming up fast! It's time to put those hard won skills to work. Today, it's your final PT test. Tomorrow morning, it's the obstacle courses, and then in the afternoon you'll pay a visit to the gas chamber. On Wednesday we march out for a three day excursion that will be a test of your survival skills, combat training, and teamwork. Saturday you get to sleep in for a bit before you go out for ballistics qualifications; marksmanship and grenades being the two biggest tests. If you're lucky, you'll get to graduate on Monday night. If not, you'll be recycled back into the system and you can say hello to six more weeks of basic training, so lets all pray that you pass!"

He stood, hands behind his back, observing them for a moment before he reached down and snatched a cloth bag off the ground, reaching inside he pulled out a manual click-counter. "Pair off, we'll start with your push-ups" Ho tossed a counter to each pair , "One get in position, one get ready to count. Ready? Down!"

\---

Seunghyun woke up Tuesday morning on his yoga mat masquerading as a mattress and groaned.

He'd passed his PT tests with flying colors, scoring in the top five from his platoon, but now he was beginning to think he'd made a horrible mistake. He was so damn sore and the morning looming before him consisted of a five kilometer march to the obstacle courses on the other side of the compound. After he got his ass kicked there, he was scheduled to get it kicked all over again in the gas chamber, and finally, they had to march back.

Never the less, when the morning call sounded he dragged his sorry ass out of bed, shaking and kicking his unit as he went.

Donghoon stood by the door already dressed, smiling like the idiot that he was.

"Wake up, my pretties!! Today is a fun day."

Seunghyun glared at him around his toothbrush,

"How are you so awake?"

Donghoon shrugged, "I'm a morning person."

"Stop smiling like that, it's creepy. I feel like death." Injun grumbled.

Seunghyun agreed, it was kind of creepy. The guy was always smiling. Covered head to toe in mud? Smiling. Being smoked for the third time in an hour? Smiling.

He'd have to introduce him to Daesung one of these days.

They all lined up in formation outside, dressed out in every bit of gear they'd ever been issued. Full Battle Rattle is what the sergeants liked to call it. Rucksacks strapped to their backs and rifles in hand. They were given military issued meal bars and told to eat and walk.

The march was hell.

Junyoung's strap snapped about two thirds of the way through and the poor kid was forced to walk holding the broken strap in one hand and his rifle in the other. By the time they arrived at the course his palms were red and raw. Seunghyun worried he wouldn't be able to complete some of the tests with his hands like that. He could see the panic in the younger man's eyes as he winced and flexed his aching fingers.

Seunghyun set his rucksack down and dug through it until he found his emergency field kit. He grabbed Junyoung by the elbow and dragged him off to the side.

"Hands." He demanded. Wordlessly, Junyoung held out his abused palms and watched as Seunghyun worked. He hissed at the sting of the antibacterial solution he dumped over the abraded skin and then coated them with a pain relieving gel before wrapping them as tight as he dared in clean gauze and some ace bandages.

He looked up and met the boy's eyes. "You know, it's not really the same thing but I've toured with some pretty nasty injuries before." He took the rucksack from the boy and set about tying the broken ends of the straps together in a knot that he hoped would hold.

"Your hand." Junyoung said, nodding. "You went on stage right after your surgery. It was still all wrapped up in bandages but you went up there anyway. Because your fans were waiting for you.."

Seunghyun pressed his lips together, nodding. His fans and he'd die before he disappointed Jiyong, even though Jiyong had yelled at him for hours before and after. Tucking him into bed afterwards, forcing pain meds down his throat, and punching him in the thigh every once in awhile whenever he thought about it too hard.

"Thanks." Junyoung whispered.

Seunghyun blinked, coming back to the present. He handed his mended bag back to him,

"No problem. Go kill it."

They went back to the rest of their unit. The obstacle course spread out before them was set up in ten lanes, enough for person from each unit to run at the same time. It was a relay race, the first unit to win would get some kind of perk during their three day march.

The course started off with a short distance run, then they had to climb a rope over a three meter wall, move across a set of monkey bars, and make their way across a set of rolling logs. And then the real fun began. They had to low crawl for 30 meters, cross a mud pit on a series of wooden slats, climb a ladder to cross a balance beam high in the air, climb down, then sprint to the finish line.

Seunghyun was second in his group. Donghoon took off like a flash before him. He hit the wall and climbed it like a fucking spider monkey. Seunghyun shook his head, getting into position. As soon as Donghoon's feet hit the platform on the other side of the wall Seunghyun took off.

You would think that being tall would make things like climbing walls easier, but honestly it just made things really awkward. He pulled himself up and swung his too long legs over the top of the wall, looking ahead to see Donghoon already hitting the crawl portion. He landed on the platform and grabbed the monkey bars, determined to make up his lost time.

He made it through the course with his life only flashing before his eyes once, when he momentarily lost his balance on the beam before righting himself.

Their unit finished second, Keunsuk slipped and his boot got sucked into the mud for a few seconds before he managed to free himself, but it was enough for Unit Two to pull ahead and win.

"Remember that rucksack you hauled all the way out here?? Ho called out as the last man crossed the finish line. "That wasn't just for fun! Part two, men! The team run!"

He led them up the hill a bit to another clearing. Seunghyun had to stop the bubble of hysteria lodged in his throat from breaking free at the sight in front of them. The last thing he needed right now was a smoking or laughing.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." The man next to Seunghyun swore. He had no idea who he was, he was from another unit, but he was probably the only other guy in the immediate vicinity that was taller than Seunghyun. The others around them were standing on their toes, trying to see more clearly what lay ahead of them. Seunghyun and his giraffe like friend could see it all too clearly.

Before them lay a field filled with short walls, fallen trees, barbed wire, old tires, and chain grids. Ballistics dummies spotted the course.

"One end of the course to the other, men! As a team, no man left behind. Carry your equipment with you. Your equipment can never touch the ground. If it touches the ground, you go back to the start of the obstacle as a team and start over again. Bayonets on rifles, stab every dummy you pass. I'll be watching and for every dummy you come within five feet of and don't stab, I'll add a second onto your final time. The winning unit of this race gets perks on the three day march as well. Ready? GO!"

The whistle blew and Donghoon whooped,

"CHARGE!" He yelled, grabbing his rucksack and running, screaming, for the first obstacle. Laughing, the others took off after their overly enthusiastic friend, Seunghyun bring up the rear to help any stragglers that might fall behind.

Donghoon was a good leader. The others followed him without question, eager to gain his attention and praise. He kind of reminded him of Jiyong in that aspect, the way all of their dongsaengs had always looked up to him, hoping to earn his approval.

They made it through the first few obstacles without any problems, but the first stretch of barbed wire gave them pause. They were meant to crawl under it, but a few of the men balked at the tiny space beneath the sharp tines of metal.

"The gear will get caught! We'll be stuck!" Injun complained, eyeing the narrow space bellow the tangle of wire skeptically. The other teams were gaining on them fast, yet no one looked like they wanted to be the first to brave the obstacle blocking their path.

Seunghyun grinned then, an idea suddenly striking him. He fixed his most terrifying scowl onto his features and began to shout in his scariest voice'

"Enemy approaching from the rear! Take evasive action or risk capture!"

Startled, the others looked around, but Donghoon caught on immediately,

"Move, move, move!" he barked, "If you ever want to see your ummas again you'll get your ass under that wire!" Then he threw himself to the ground and took off in a mad scramble, all the while shrieking about North Koreans spies and sensitive information vital to the survival of the nation and needing to rescue his sister, the fucker.

Dumbfounded, the others followed, and before too long they'd managed to clear the obstacle with only a small tear to Junyoung's already damaged bag and a scratch to Donghoon's forehead.

"What the hell was that?!" Keunsuk huffed on the other side, hands braced on his knees to catch his breath, looking at the pair of them as if they'd gone insane.

"Acting!" Donghoon said, jazz hands accentuating the word.

Seunghyun nodded solemnly, "We're professionals."

Somehow, they finished first.

Lunch was a cringe worthy affair. MREs were the menu of the day. Freeze dried, ground up food stored in a special package that you cracked over your knee like a glow stick. The chemicals in between the layers of thick plastic reacted with each other to heat the mess inside and you spooned it out into your mouth pretending it was your favorite dish in the world and not stomach-cramps-in-a-pouch.

They figured out real quick why they'd had military hell for lunch and not something else. The next corner they rounded was the worst corner. A long building stood before them, windowless and imposing. Vents lined the walls close to the top.

"Welcome to the gas chamber, boys" Of course it had to be Myeong. He stepped out from the entryway to greet them, sick smile stretched wide across his smug little face.

Tension was running high. Everyone had heard so many stories. The Drill Sergeants walked up and down their ranks making sure their gas masks were secure and sealed correctly, then they led the first unit into the building. The rest of them stood at attention, getting comfortable with breathing through the cumbersome masks and sweating in the hot sun. Ten minutes later from an area behind the building they couldn't see the sounds of coughing and retching reached their ears. Everyone shifted uncomfortably as Myeong appeared again and called for Unit Two to enter the building next. 

The time between Unit Two being called and Unit Eight being called was enough for Seunghyun's muscles to seize up for him to begin to wonder whether to he'd get out of the test if he had a sudden bought of heat stroke.

Finally, Myeong called out their name, "Unit Eight! Let's go."

They snapped to attention, stepping to the narrow building, lining their rucksacks up along the wall as instructed, and following Myeong through a thick steel door into a room with menacing little spigots in the corners by the ceiling. It was warm, but not as hot as it was standing outside in the full sun. Their skin tingled a little and Seunghyun doubted it was with anticipation. Myeong went around to each person and had them break the seal on their mask, hold it over their head, and say their full name along with the last four digits of their social security number.

The inside of Seunghyun's mouth prickled with his first breath. Myeong moved over to the next person and Seunghyun resealed his mask, breathing normally again.

Next, they had everyone take their mask off completely and hold it over their heads. Seunghyun took a deep breathe before taking his off and held it, along with his mask above his head. Which would have been a great idea except someone took forever to get their mask off and he was forced to take a breath. The prickling sensation returned to his mouth and made it's way down his throat. His eyes began to water and he resisted to urge to cough like a few of those around him had started to do. It felt like he couldn't get enough oxygen. His nose was running and finally, _finally,_ they started to move into the next room.

Except in this room the gas was thicker.

"GET THOSE MASKS BACK ON, BOYS!" Myeong shouted happily as they scrambled to seal their masks back over their faces.

Then they were treated to a good and proper smoking in full gear. They got them good and sweaty before telling them to remove their jackets and masks. Their jackets came off and their drenched skin was treated to the saturated air and it stung like bitch. Every inch of exposed flesh felt like someone was on fire. Myeong told them to take off their masks a second time and take a deep breath. If he thought anyone was holding their breath he gave them a sharp jab to the ribs, forcing them to breathe in.

Once that was all settled they were told to grab the shoulder of their left and follow them out. By this time everyone was coughing and retching, unable to breathe.

Outside in the clear afternoon air, the sudden surge of untainted air had people dropping to all fours and loosing their MREs all over the ground. Luckily, Seunghyun wasn't one that tossed his cookies, but he did have a string of snot hanging out of both nostrils a mile long.

Ah, if the fans could see him now.

The worst part was resisting the urge to rub your eyes. The residue on their hands would only make it worse. Myeong instructed them to flap their arms to help clear out their lung and directed them the 100 meters or so down the hill to the rest area where the other platoons were waiting.

Twenty minutes later they were delivered a small mercy. Instead of having to march back, a semi truck was waiting for them. They clamored into the back and rested gratefully as they truck bumped and rattled its way back to base.

Seunghyun sat near to door watching the landscape roll past. Snatched of conversation rolled past him,

"I don't care what they say. If you're up there in skin tight pants singing and dancing, you're gay."

Myeong was running his mouth again but Seunghyun was too tired to even acknowledge him, let alone get angry about it. He knew they were talking about him. The recruits from the other units didn't know him or care to know him. There was nothing he could do to change that.

"You know some of them don't date?" Myeong chuckled, talking about idols like they were another breed, another species of being entirely. "In my personal experience, if you're not having sex with your woman two, three times a day, you're gay."

Seunghyun sighed, and was just about to open his mouth to say something when Drill Sergeant Ho called out,

"You seem to know an awful lot about what it take to be gay, Kunwoo." He said, "Something you need to tell us?"

Myeong's protests were lost amongst the chorus of cat calls and Seunghyun smiled.

\---

The wake up call came early Wednesday morning. They had a pretty decent breakfast, bowls of kimchi jjigae and giant glasses of orange juice, which was kind of a gross combination, but they insisted they drink the entire glass because 'vitamins'.

Trussed up in full battle rattle once again with their camel backs strapped on, they set out from the compound around sunrise. They were told to have their gas masks ready and we found out why about and hour into the march. Seunghyun heard a pop and his brain registered what it was just seconds before Donghoon shouted,

"Gas!"

He slapped his mask over his face and sealed it as quickly as possible as a thick cloud of tear gas rolled down the line. Some of the recruits didn't make it in time and they fell to their knees, coughing as they tried to seal their masks over their streaming eyes. Seunghyun crouched down to help Injun, the boy clutching to his arm weakly as he hauled him to his feet.

"Keep walking, kid." He said gruffly, shoving him ahead of him gently.

The rest of the day was more of the same. 

A Drill Sergeant would casually pull the pin out of a canister of tear gas and toss it over his shoulder.

About two thirds of the way to their destination they were 'attacked'. A unit of men descended from the crest of a hill firing blanks and in general scaring the shit out of everyone. They had to respond, which involved more than a bit of running through the woods.

It was difficult to breathe in the mask and by the time he returned to the main road Seunghyun felt like he was suffocating. He was five seconds away from just ripping the damn thing off, he was almost to the point of panic and desperately needed some fresh, clean air.

When the first day of marching finally ended, the winning units were finally told their prize.

"Surprise, boys!" Ho shouted, pulling packs out of the back of a supply truck. "You don't have to dig trenches tonight, you lucky bastards get tents!" He grinned at them, then, "There's a catch, though. We're storing our extra ammunition and ballistics in your tents. That means you'll have to work out some kind of guard shift. There are other platoons out here doing there field testing, too, and they might try to ambush us for supplies. So sleep with one eye open. Understand?"

"Yes, sir!"

Seunghyun and Donghoon paired off like middle schoolers, Donghoon catching Seunghyun around the elbow and grabbing a tent, leaving Seunghyun no room to protest. They set about pitching the tent in the clear area near the middle of the encampment. Ho came over and kicked the spikes, deeming it worthy.

Dinner was a subdued affair. A couple of units were taken out into the woods in trucks and left there to navigate their way back in the dark. Eventually everyone would have to, but tonight Unit Eight was spared since they had guard duty. Seunghyun ate his MRE in silence, he wasn't even sure what 'flavor' it was suppose to be. Radioactive chalk was probably a good guess.

Seunghyun and Donghoon decided to take the first shift and then wake up again for the last shift, since someone had to take two. So they sat around the campfire while everyone else laid down in the trenches or zipped themselves into tents. Rifles rested over knees, they sat in silence watching the moon track its progress across the sky. More than once he caught Donghoon looking at him out of the corner of his eye and one or twice he even opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but thought better of it.

Keunsuk tapped him on the shoulder, signaling the end of their shift and Seunghyun gladly gave him his seat. Sangbae took Donghoon's place and they slipped into their tent. Seunghyun stripped down to his t-shirt and pants, placing his jacket, boots, and rifle within easy reach before sliding in between the warm layers of his sleeping bag.

It was quiet for a good fifteen minute and he was starting to think Donghoon had fallen asleep without a word when the younger man finally spoke,

"You know, we haven't really had a chance to talk about our jobs. We're both in the industry but, I mean, it would be awkward to talk about it in front of the others. There's just some things they wouldn't understand."

Seunghyun grunted in response, wondering where he was going with this.

Donghoon continued. "You hear a lot of things on set. Especially on set, I think. Like, when you're a singer things can get kind of insular, you know? You're around the same people all the time, your staff hardly ever changes. But on set, they can call in a new crew of stylists, or the director can change, or they can add or take away cast members. I think sets generate like ninety percent of the gossip you hear in the entertainment world. Someone sees something in a dark corner that they shouldn't and tells someone else swearing them to secrecy and they tell someone else swearing _them_ to secrecy and before you know it everyone has heard the rumor and no one is making anyone promise to keep it a secret anymore."

Seunghyun heard a rustling of nylon and turned to see where Donghoon had turned on his side to regard him.

"I'm about to ask you something and before I do, I want you to know you have full permission to punch me in the face if I'm wrong. Or if you just want me to think that I'm wrong, I really don't care because I probably deserve to be punched in the face for this. But I feel like we're friends and I want to stay friends after all this is over and we're back out there in the real world. I want to have your back out there like I do in here, and I can't do that if I don't know so... someone told me once... and I didn't really believe it then because people say this kind of stuff all the time.. but after the other night with the pictures.. Seung... are you.. was your.. were you involved with another man?"

Seunghyun's heart stopped. He sat bolt upright, shoving the material of his sleeping bag away from him.

" _What?!"_

He thought about it. For five seconds he thought about biting out a venomous 'NO' and doling out a vicious right hook, but then he met Donghoon's eyes and all he saw there was concern and just a bit of mild curiosity. No maliciousness, no disgust. He knew the rumors were out there, they'd always known. People knew. And while they thought they could trust the people who knew, how could they really know? Like Donghoon said, secrets are secrets until they aren't anymore.

His shoulders dropped and he gathered his strength, looking Donghoon straight in the eyes he whispered,

"Yes."

Donghoon's eyes widened and he nodded, absorbing this new information. "To reiterate, my full permission to punch me in the face, but... GD?"

A body blow wouldn't have caught him more by surprise. He sputtered, thought about denying it, knowing his reaction had already given him away.

"Who told you that?" He hissed, reaching across the narrow space to grasp a handful of Donghoon's shirt menacingly.

"Whoa, a stylist a couple years back. She said she'd she worked on a photo shoot with you guys for Vogue in 2012. Something about her walking into a room and he was sitting in your lap."

Seunghyun remembered that shoot, the ridiculous sports themed one where the maknaes had pretended to beat the shit out of each other and Jiyong had looked like sin. He remembered the quiet moment they'd caught where neither of them were needed on set and everyone was busy and distracted. Where he'd pulled Jiyong into his lap and let his lips wander across the column of his throat before coming to rest in the hallow behind his ear. ' _I'd rather kiss your lips, but I wouldn't want to spoil your make up...'_ Seunghyun had murmured against his skin.

They'd been so in love, so wrapped up in each other. Before he'd started filming for Alumnus, before he took two steps back and saw what everything would cost them in the long run.

_Someone had seen that._

And they had been telling people about it. For years.

He let go of Donghoon's shirt and shoved him back into the nest of his sleeping back.

"Well forget you ever heard it. It's over now. It never should have happened to begin with. We were being stupid. Reckless. Those kind of things happen. When you spend so much time with a person... things like that happen." He fixed his eyes on the canvas ceiling and told himself he meant what he said.

"Those kind of things happen?"

"Yeah."

"For.. how long? You said it was on and off. That doesn't sound like a _thing_ to me. That doesn't sound like a _fling_."

"Oh yeah? What does it sound like to you?" Seunghyun chuckled humorlessly.

"It sounds like you were in love."

His chuckle died in his throat.

"Go to sleep, Park."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: wooow sorry this took so long!! I've got stuff going on and junk. Offspring to tend to. That sort of thing. But, *farnsworth voice* Good news everyone!! the next chapter is like, already started?? And it might be obnoxiously huge I'm sorry but I want to get it over with in one fell swoop so no one abandons me *ominous music plays in the background* So enjoy and hopefully it won't be another month before I see you again.
> 
> Lyrics in chapter image from Miss Missing You - Fall Out Boy  
> Come see me on tumblr [hoseokie-jung ❤︎](http://hoseokie-jung.tumblr.com/)


	9. SOMNIUM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for recreational drug usage

* * *

 

SOMNIUM

_[noun]_

daydream; dream; fancy; foolishness; nonsense; wishful thinking.

 _Etymology_ : Latin, from _somnus,_ “sleep”.

* * *

"Introduce me to someone."

"What, you mean like a blind date?" Seungri asked, confused.

"Yeah, like a blind date."

"Seriously, hyung?" The maknae sounded too excited by this and Jiyong was already beginning to regret asking. "Boy or girl?"

Jiyong sighed, he could feel a headache forming at his temples as he answered. "I don't care, Ri-yah. The only thing that matters to me is that they're not a boring, money hungry idiot."

"Got it. One independently wealthy, not boring, hot person; surprise me option, coming right up."

"Seungri..." He groaned.

This was probably the worst idea he'd ever had.

\---

"I just don't understand why you asked the maknae to set you up with someone and not me." Youngbae whined, pouting into his drink. "Hyo has lots of nice girlfriends. I could have set you up with any one of them and they would have been ecstatic."

Chaerin laughed, "No offense, Bae, but I don't think any of Hyorin's friends are really Ji's type."

Jiyong frowned at her, "I don't have a type." He denied.

Chaerin laughed, "Oh yeah, you definitely have a type. Two of them actually." She held up two fingers, "Tall, dark, and broody for your boy toys." She ticked off one finger, "And for the girls-"

"Crazy." Seungho cut in, smirking at him over the rim of his wine glass.

"I've never dated anyone who's-"

Seungho cut him off, kicking Youngbae under the table. "Dude, you remember Eunjin in high school? When you guys were trainees?"

Youngbae barked out a laugh, "Oh god, yeah, her. The one that drank whiskey like it was water and swore like a sailor and punched that guy that was twice her size for grabbing her ass after she snuck into that bar?"

Chaerin giggled, "Remember that girl he hooked up with for like a month straight that one time and she was already planning their wedding even when he wouldn't return her calls or answer her texts? He had to write a song to get that one to leave him alone."

"And no offense," Soohyuk added, "But a pissed off Kiko with a couple of drinks in her told the world you have a tiny dick and suck in bed."

The whole table roared with laughter and Jiyong pouted, "You guys suck. No one even knows for sure 'Ms. M' was her or that she was talking about me. And it's not true."

"Everyone knows it was her." Seungho smirked. "Face it, dude, you like your ladies nuttier than a Payday bar. I doubt any of Hyo's actress friends could hack it. It's better to let Seungri hook you up with one of his club finds. You know he's careful with that shit ever since the Japan incident.

He took it back, telling this pack of idiots about his blind date was the worst idea he’d ever had.

\---

"It's perfect, hyung!"

"No."

"Hyuuuung. Just listen! No one has to know that's what the party is for! I throw parties all the time! I'll send out invites and invite tons of people. It'll be awesome! I'll invite all my friends I think you'd get along with and introduce them to you and you can vet them out without any of them knowing you're in the market for a relationship. That way they won't try to suck up to you! You can chit chat and get to know them and figure out which ones you want me to try to set you up with. It'll be like speed dating! Like going on twenty blind dates at once!"

"Twenty?!"

Seungri waved a hand, dismissive.

"Twenty-five, whatever.  The point is we'll get to have a giant party and get stupid drunk and you can get laid." He looked up at Jiyong with his big stupid panda eyes and pouted, "I just want you to be happy, hyung!"

"Fine." Jiyong groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face in defeat.

No, this was definitely the worst idea he'd ever had.

\---

The club was already packed when Jiyong arrived. He almost hadn't come, to be honest. He'd gotten in his car and drove two blocks before turning around and heading back home and then groaning out his frustration before turning back around to continue towards the club.

He'd never done this before. The only person he'd ever pursued was Seunghyun. All of his past relationship, all of his past hookups, he'd always let them come to him. He'd never had to 'vet anyone out' as Seungri had so eloquently put it. He felt like he was buying a new car. Kicking their metaphorical tires.

The guy sitting at the table across from him was undeniably attractive. Not really his type as Chaerin had put it. Blonde, about the same height as him, some kind of European, he'd missed the city but the accent sounded vaguely Scandinavian. He had gorgeous blue eyes and a pretty mouth. Seungri had drug Jiyong to the table twenty minutes ago, "Bric, this is Kwon Jiyong. Jiyong, Bric Anderson. You know Jiyong, right? G-Dragon?" He'd winked at them before walking away, feigning sudden surprise like he'd seen someone across the room he needed to greet. He was terrible at this, really, if that was his idea of being subtle.

"I hear you like art? I'm a sculptor. My medium is metal. Maybe you've seen some of my work? There's an installation in a gallery downtown right now. I just put in.."

Jiyong smiled at him kindly, the English words rolling carefully off his tongue,

"I'm sorry, no. I haven't seen it. I'm more of a pop art man myself. But perhaps I'll go see it on my next free day? I'd love to see your work."

Bric smiled at him, fingers reaching out to brush faintly across the curve of Jiyong's wrist.

Jiyong pulled his hand back as subtly as he could, running fingers through his hair.

"Ah, where is that waiter? I could really use another drink." He said.

"Here, let me go to the bar for you."

"Oh, no no. I've got it. Thanks, though." He smiled his most charming smile and slide out of the booth.

Jiyong shouldered his way through the crowd towards the bar where he alighted on a stool and told himself he was staying there for the rest of the night. No more European artists or pretty giggling girls in too tight dresses. This had been a bad idea from the start, his heart wasn't in it at all.

Three shots later he was feeling well and truly morose. The stool next to him pulled back with a slight screech and he turned a bleary eye towards the noise.

A girl in tight jeans and a crop top waved the bartender over, ordering a cosmopolitan. She looked vaguely familiar and he realized he'd met her earlier. She'd been seated at a table when he'd first arrived. Seungri had introduced her to him in his first round of eager introductions. He couldn't for the life of him remember her name.

"Hey.." He greeted her, feeling like it would be rude to ignore her.

She turned her head a bit to glance at him. The light caught her hair and what he'd thought was black turned out to be a dark forest green in the light, cut in an angular bob that framed her face. Interesting.

"Hey." She acknowledged, going back to her drink.

He raised an eyebrow in shock. Okay, so maybe he was a bit vain, but it miffed him a bit that she didn't seem interested in talking to him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name earlier.."

She glanced at him again, "Lauren."

He grunted in surprise. When Seungri had introduced her before, he was embarrassed to admit he hadn’t paid close enough attention to catch her American accent.

"Huh. I use to have a pillow named Laura."

God he was drunk.

"What?" She laughed, looking at him, equal amounts surprised and annoyed if the look on her face was anything to go by. Not that he could see her face. Maybe if the room would stop tilting for a minute...

"Ignore me. I'm drunk." He laughed, "So Lauren...?"

"Lauren Oh. And before you ask, I’m from California. Yes, I have a Korean name. No, I'm not telling you what it is."

He laughed again. "Nice to meet you, Lauren. I'm Kwon Jiyong." He offered her his hand and she looked down at it before summarily ignoring it and going back to her drink.

"I know."

"You know?"

"Of course I know, I met you earlier. I remember."

He smiled sheepishly, "Sorry, I meet a lot of people. If I tried to remember everyone's names I'd go crazy."

They sat in silence for a beat before he decided to try again,

"So.. what brings you to Seoul?"

She sat her drink down with a huff.

"Listen. I'm not interested in talking to you, okay? I have better things to do tonight than be chatted up."

He scoffed, "Who said I was chatting you up?"

"I'm not an idiot. I haven't talked to Seungri is months. Then when he does call me, he begs me to come to this party. Tells me it's of the utmost importance. Then I get here and the only time he bothers to speak to me all night is when he introduces me to you, not that you noticed, and I can connect the dots okay? I'm not interested in whatever this is. I get it, really I do. I'm the Korean girl who grew up in the states, I was suppose to dream about G-Dragon at night and be dying to meet him." She's glared at him like he'd done something to personally offend her and he sputtered, trying to get a word in edgewise, "But let me tell you something, asshole, I grew up in L.A. My dad is a television producer. I've spent my entire life shrugging off self-absorbed z-list actors trying to get into my pants and I'm not about to sit here and let some cocksure pop star idol idiot think I'm his easy lay for the night. Go find someone else, I'm sure you have options."

By now his eyebrows had made a home firmly in his hair line. He scoffed, seriously, who did she think she was? She was right, he did have options. And this self-absorbed piece of bar trash definitely wasn't one of them.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much, you're not really my type."

He stood from the bar and found Bric where he'd left him, a few other people had joined him at the table but Jiyong ignored them.

He leaned down and whispered into the man's ear,

"I'm bored. You wanna get out of here? I can think of a million better things we could do back at my place."

He stumbled out the door of the club, Bric's arms firmly around his waist, laughing as he tripped over the door jam.

He looked back over his shoulder and the last thing he saw was Lauren's surprised face from where she still sat at the bar.

Serves her right, the bitch.

\---

"You should have just told me you were gay."

Jiyong looked up from his phone, startled and immediately wary. He was currently sitting at a corner table in the VIP lounge at NB2. He'd come with Soo Joo and Seungho but he had no idea where they'd gone. It'd been almost an hour and he was just thinking about texting them.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you the other night, I was kind of drunk and pissed off." The girl said, sitting down across from him.

He stared at her for a moment until he took in the green hair and then he remembered.

"Lauren." He said, by way of acknowledgement. "How'd you get in here?"

"What, pretty boy, I'm not good enough for your little corner?" She smirked, waving down a waitress and ordering a cocktail. "I'm a model, dumbass. I'm a celebrity." She said the word with a nasal infliction, rolling her eyes. "I'm on the 'list'." She air quoted.

He eyed her for a minute before he decided he'd bite.

"What kind of model? I don't think I've ever seen any of your work."

"Yah, Mr. Fashionista, just because you haven't seen it.." She laughed, "Runway, mostly. L.A. based designers. I did a lot of William Bradley and Lily Ashwell. I tried to break into some bigger brands but you know how it is, they only need one token Asian girl on the runway per brand and I was never it. Not tall enough and not skinny enough. So I figured I'd try my hand here. See if I can get on the runway for some Korean brands and if that doesn't work out maybe I'll try my hand at editorials and if that doesn't work out go home in disgrace or join a girl group, I guess."

He blinked. That was more of an answer than he'd expected to get.

"You talk a lot."

She laughed at him, accepting the drink the waitress held out to her.

"And I'm not, by the way." He added.

"Not what?"

"I'm not gay."

She looked at him over the rim of her glass.

"Really? Looked pretty gay to me."

"I like people." He shrugged.

"Like, you like people? Or you like people in your bed?" She asked, giggling.

"Both." He laughed. He felt surprisingly comfortable talking to her, actually. He thought maybe he was saying too much for a minute, but then he remembered that he'd basically gone home with a dude to spite her the other night, and she was friends with Seungri, so he felt like he could probably trust her.

"Ah, my friends are here, I gotta go." She said, standing up and waving at a group of girls who'd just walked in. She paused and then held out her hand.

"Give me your phone."

"What? Why?"

She laughed, "So I can give you my number, stupid."

He hesitated for just a moment before handing it over.

"Don't steal any of my contacts or something..."

"Shut up, I'm just gonna program my number into your phone. What am I gonna do, send YG a message and ask him to make me the leader of his new girl group?"

She clicked away on the screen and then her own phone chimed in her hand.

"There, now I have yours, too." She winked, handing his phone back to him.

He shook his head, looking at where she's programmed her name in surrounded by smiley face emojis.

"What do you want my number for anyway?" He asked,

"You're G-Dragon, stupid."

"Oh."

She leaned in close, much like he'd done to Bric the other night,

"And maybe I like people, too."

He met her eyes and smirked,

"Like, you like people? Or you like people in your bed?"

"Both."

\---

**From: :) Lauren :)**   
**Sent: 22:12, June 4 2016**

I had a fitting today

for a show

and wow

**From: Kwon Jiyong**   
**Sent: 22:14, June 4 2016**

Good wow?

or bad wow?

**From: :) Lauren :)**   
**Sent: 22:15, June 4 2016**

Bad wow

like

so bad wow

**From: Kwon Jiyong**   
**Sent: 22:16, June 4 2016**

bad designs?

bad concept??

bad what???

**From: :) Lauren :)**   
**Sent: 22:18, June 4 2016**

bad everything

bad designs

bad concept 

asshole director

the designer is sweet tho.

she's new.

it's her first show

so I can forgive the shitty designs

I guess.

**From: Kwon Jiyong**   
**Sent: 22:20, June 4 2016**

yeah well

it's work

maybe you'll kick ass on the runway

and then you can do a bigger show soon

with good designs and a not asshole director

 

"Who the fuck are you texting?"

Jiyong raised his middle finger at Seungho by way of a response, not bothering to lift his eyes from the screen in front of him.

"He's always texting." Soo Joo supplied, as if that should be obvious.

"Yeah, but he's smiling," Seungho said, trying to peek at the screen over his shoulder.

"Fuck you, I smile." Jiyong said, flicking into instagram before Seungho could decipher anything.

"Yeah, you smile. And you're hiding something, you dick. Don't think I don't know what you're up to."

Jiyong laughed, shaking his head.

"I'm not hiding anything. I just met her, we're just friends. I don't know how comfortable she'd be with me letting your creepy ass read her texts."

"Ohhh, Jiyongie's got a girlfriend." Soo Joo teased, and Jiyong pulled a face.

"She's not my girlfriend. What are you two, grade schoolers?"

"Alright lets leave him alone, he's getting grumpy on us." Seungho snickered.

"What's her name? Do we know her?" Soo Joo asked, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Of course we don't know her, he said he just met her. We know everyone he knows because he's the world's most public hermit."

"Shut up." Jiyong laughed, "Soo, you might know her, actually. She's a model. Not like big time or anything, but she's from California and.."

"She's American? Wait.." Her eyebrows drew together in concentration, "Jiyong, please tell me it's not Lauren Oh."

He blinked, "Yeah.. why?"

"Honey, she's notorious for being kind of.. flighty. I can personally tell you about three different men she's burned in the last couple of years. Are you sure you want to mess with someone like that after..."

After Seunghyun.

"We're not dating. We're just friends. I swear, Soo, it's nothing to worry about."

"As long as you're sure.. God, she's a blast, though, right up your alley. Young, wild, and free is kind of her life motto. A real party girl. She'll fuck you up." Soo Joo said. "Oh, I love this song. Come dance with me?"

\---

"Hello?"

"Jiyong! Come to this party with me!"

"Lauren, hey. Uh, I'm kind of busy right now?" He glared at the screen in front of him. He was just a few edits away from getting Daesung in the studio for final recordings, but if he was being honest with himself he wasn't getting the ending right and the more he tweaked it the more it sounded like utter crap.

"Oh come on, what are you too old? Kwon Harabeoji? When was the last time you went out to an actual party? Take a break, loser."

"Yah, I'm not that much older than you."

"I know, Eighty-eight. Ninety-three gonna show you how to party."

"God, you're a literal infant. 1993, aish."

"Ha, you just said you weren't that much older than me. Besides, I'm mature for my age, asshole. Twenty-three isn't that young. Twenty-eight is ancient."

"So mean.." He scolded, "Watch your mouth, you're eomma would faint."

She laughed, "Are you coming or not, idiot?"

Private parties in Gangnam were a blast from his past. As his celebrity grew his social circle shrank and he found himself less and less willing to expose himself to people who had little so interest in him as a person and more interest in how being seen near him could help their own careers.

The bouncer let him through the door with wide eyes, not even checking to see if his name was on the list.

He made his way around the edge of the room, one of those warehouse style venues with a raised platform for the DJ and a huge dance floor taking up most of the space. A long bar ran along one wall where the bartenders were throwing tricks much to the delight of their drunken patrons.

A velvet rope and sheer paneling blocked off the VIP area where Lauren had said she'd be waiting. Again, it took nothing more than a quick once over to have the bouncer jumping aside to let him in. Jiyong stepped inside, inclining his head politely. He let his eyes roam over the tables until he spotted her, seated with a group of her friends.

Her back was turned to him as he walked, so he let a hand fall on her bare shoulder, leaning down to catch her startled gaze.

"Hey." Jiyong said, a smirk turning up the corners of his mouth at her surprise.

"Jiyongie!" She giggled, jumping up to wrap her arms around his neck, planting a sloppy kiss on his cheek. Surprised, his hands instinctively dropped to her hips to steady her, she was more than a bit drunk. "I told you he'd come." She snarked over her shoulder to where a group of girls sat gaping at them from the table.

"Whatever, who wouldn't think you were lying?" One girl sneered, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Honestly, Lauren. I thought some pervert had lied to you and convinced you he was G-Dragon or something. I was concerned. How was I supposed to know he was the real deal." The look on her face was sour and the shot she took did nothing to improve it.

Jiyong looked down at the girl still draped around his neck and grinned to himself. The petulant look on her drunk little face was ridiculous and he decided to have mercy on her and help her out.

"Seungri introduced us." He smiled at the girls at the table. One of them looked between them with wide eyes,

"So like, are you guys dating?" She asked, not even trying to hide her astonishment.

For about five seconds, he toyed with the idea of saying yes just to mess with them, but before he could say anything Lauren was shoving him away.

"No!" She laughed, and he tried not to be too offended by the way her mouth twisted down in distaste, like the idea of dating him was somehow repulsive. "We're just friends. I only met you like, what, a month ago?"

"Something like that.." He said, shuffling his feet awkwardly. He really didn't want to sit down at a table full of people he didn't know, not that he really knew what he expected to do at a party where he literally knew no one.

"Oppa, come dance with me." Jiyong's breath caught a bit and he laughed at himself. Girls called him 'oppa' all the time. Both platonically and definitely not. Maybe it was just that her preferred address for him was usually something more along the lines of 'dumbass'.

He let her drag him back out past the barrier and into the thick of the dancing crowd. Bodies packed so tightly together he doubted anyone would recognize him amidst the pulsing lights and fog.

His hands found a home on her hips again, fingers digging into the denim of the high-waisted shorts she was wearing. Her back pressed against his front, hips moving to the pulsating beat of the house mix and he reined in a shudder. Her fingers glided up his shoulder and wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him in closer, pulling his head down to the level of her mouth.

"Relax." She said, lips brushing against his ear, her quiet laugh sending another shudder down his spine. She turned to face him, eyes traveling across his face before she grinned, mischievous and so very beautiful. She pulled him down again and whispered in his ear. "You want a hit?"

Jiyong pulled back and appraised her. Took in her blown pupils and the way she pressed against him and realized she was already rolling.

Cautious, he leaned back in and murmured,

"What do you have?"

If it was possible for her grin to get any wider, he would have been surprised. She reached down the front of her top and pulled out a tiny clear bottle.

"Molly." She shook the bottle at him playfully and he considered it for a moment before nodding. She plucked a capsule from the bottle, recapping it before tucking it back into her top. She held the capsule up to his lips and he hesitated for just a moment before he opened his mouth. She laid it carefully on his tongue. He swallowed it dry and she beamed, pressing another sloppy kiss against his cheek before turning back around in his arms and resuming her dancing as if nothing had happened.

Twenty minutes later he was really starting to feel the effect of the drug coursing through his veins. Everything was brighter, surreal almost, and felt pleasantly warm. Everything struck him as funny, too.

Lauren kept up a running commentary in his ear, lips pressed close against his skin so he could hear her over the thudding bass of the music. She pointed out people around them,

"That's Kim Mikyung. Too fucking rich for this place. Oldest daughter of some rich bastard. Married her off the second she graduated high school to a colleague's son. A match made in heaven." She intoned, giggling. "She comes here where she thinks no one will recognize her to find some young little thing to fuck for the night. She has a three year old son who knows the nanny better than he knows her. He looks nothing like her husband. I eat lunch with her on Tuesdays." Her laugh trickled down his spine and he shook his head, exasperated.

"Jung Youngchul, He likes to go around to colleges and pretend to be a scout for SM. Real piece of work, actual scum of the Earth. But what are you gonna do about it? He's a prominent banker. Police won't touch him."

"The twitchy one over there just goes by Hodu which is the stupidest fucking name like seriously who wants to be called Walnut?? Anyway, he sells crack. Don't talk to him."

The more she talked the more he wondered just what exactly he was getting himself into, but he couldn't really bring himself to care through the fog in his brain. She rolled her hips and he stifled a groan against the back of her head. He felt her still for a just a moment before she resumed both the motion of her hips and her gossiping.

"That bitch at the table earlier was Yujin, she's a trainee at SM and she's been there forever. I swear she's going to poison one of the younger girls if she doesn't debut soon. She sucks, though. Her daddy has a lot of stock in the company, so they won't cut her loose, but they're not stupid enough to put her on stage either. It kills her that I know you. Like, I thought she was jealous when Seungri tried to pick up on me at a club one night, but boy was I wrong." She laughed, the sound a touch more bitter than he'd ever heard from her before. "She turned purple when I mentioned that I'd met you. I wasn't even bragging, Seulki saw me sitting with you that night that I apologized and asked me about it in front of her. She was tearing into me again tonight, telling me there was no way I knew you, that she'd been 'in the industry' since she was fifteen and the closest she'd ever gotten to you was front row at Inkigayo. So I called you just to shut her up." She turned around in his arms, forearms resting easily on his shoulders as she looked up at him, "I'm really glad you came though. Not just because it let me throw it in her stuck up fucking face, but because this is the most fun I've had since I moved here. It sucks being the odd one out. The foreigner in a room full of faces that look just like yours. It's been really... lonely."

Lauren's eyes darted back and forth between his and Jiyong realized what was happening right before it did. She pressed her lips to his and he froze. Normally he'd be angry that someone just presumed to kiss him, but really who was he kidding? They'd been talking non-stop for over a month, he'd been dancing with her all night, and, god, her lips felt good against his. It was crazy though, because as much as it made sense for him to kiss her, he realized he was terrified to kiss her back. Making the decision to leave Seunghyun behind him and actually doing it were two very different things. This wasn't a warm body he picked up in a dark club, this was someone he liked, someone he was really starting to care about. If this blew up in his face it would suck big time, and if it didn't... then he'd really be moving on and that was fucking scary because when was the last time he had a relationship that Seunghyun didn't have his fingers in in some way? Never. Not since they were trainees and Seunghyun looked at him like he was his kid brother.

And here was Lauren and she was smart and funny and beautiful and rude as fuck and wild and why was he fighting this?

So he kissed her back. He leaned into her, wrapped his arms around her waist and deepened the kiss. Her hands slide up and into his hair and she hummed in contentment, tongue slipping into his mouth to slide lazily against his. The drug thrummed through his system making every little point of contact between their bodies sing and he groaned, tearing his mouth away from hers. She pouted up at him for a second before she laughed, the sound a bit manic. It reminded him of glass breaking.

"I really need a fucking cigarette." She said, grabbing his hand. She pulled him through the crowd, stopping briefly at the coat check where she retrieved her purse and then leading him outside onto the curve.

The moist heat outside hit them hard and suddenly he was too warm. The sounds of the city rolled around them, Gangnam on a Saturday night in June. She walked into the alley next to the warehouse and light up a cigarette. Jiyong leaned against the wall and considered lighting one of his own, but thought better of it when she wrapped her lips around her own. Instead, he grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her against him. Sealing his lips to hers, he sucked the smoke from her lungs and she whined, sagging against him.

He chuckled then, low and dark,

"I thought you weren't interested in whatever I had to offer?" He teased, remembering their first conversation.

"Changed my mind.." She gasped, giggling. Maybe it was the molly, or maybe she was just brave, but she looked him straight in the eyes as her fingers skimmed lightly across the front of his jeans. "So am I people yet?" She asked, her grin was sharp.

"Yeah, you're people." Jiyong hissed, closing his eyes against the sensation.

"People you like, or people you like in your bed?"

"Both. But the last one, preferably."

"Then get a cab." She shoved him towards the road, smirking as she took another drag off her cigarette.

The night he'd arrived at his place with Bric, Dami had been sitting in the living room watching one of her dramas which had lead to an awkward introduction and a lot of brow waggling on her part.

Tonight she was nowhere to be found and he'd never been more grateful.

As soon as the front door closed they were on each other. His hands were all over and everywhere, slipping under her shirt to ghost the pad of his thumbs across the soft contours of her waist. Lauren's own hands slid up his back to pull him closer, god, so close until there’s no more space left between them. Hands and skin, fleeting touches and lips skimming across any available expanse of flesh, tugging on each other gently until finally, finally, they reached his bedroom door and he pulled her inside, shutting out the rest of the world.

\---

"Jiyong!"

He groaned, shoving his face deeper into the sheets below him. His pillow rested over his head, blocking out the light he was sure was waiting to sear his eyeball into oblivion. His mouth felt like the Sahara and his skull felt fit to split open. He groaned once more for good measure, just to make sure the person bothering him knew they were potentially killing him.

"Jiyong!" Dami hissed again, and this time he mentally patted himself on the back for recognizing her voice.

"What?" he hissed back, voice muffled by the pillow he still refused to remove from his head.

"There's a girl in our kitchen!" She whispered, smacking his bare shoulder. He realized then that his sheets were only covering him to the waist and he shifted slightly, relieved to find he was wearing pajama pants. He may have been lying on his stomach, but he didn't think his sister would prefer an accidental glimpse of his ass anymore than she would one of his dick.

"What does she look like?"

"I don't know? A girl! She has green hair?! Jiyong!"

"What? That's Lauren. Did you really think some random girl was just hanging out in our kitchen?" He laughed from underneath his pillow, yelped when she snatched it away.

"I don't know! You don't usually bring girls here? Usually you take them to your place over by the river. Or a hotel. Not here." She ignored his grumbling and plopped down on the mattress next to him. She nudged him with her elbow. "So like, this is Lauren? Giggling over your phone at three o'clock in the morning Lauren? I thought you were just friends."

He rolled onto his side and squinted at her.

"Yeah well.. I guess that went out the window?"

Rather spectacularly at that.

The bedroom door swung open and Lauren slipped inside, two cups of tea in hand. She paused when she saw Dami sitting next to him on the bed, but then she grinned and simply crawled onto the bed on his opposite side.

"I didn't realize we were having a slumber party." She said, leaning over to sit the mug he assumed was intended for him on the end table next to his head.

Dami eyed her suspiciously, "Slumber party? It's almost noon."

Lauren sipped her tea and smiled, "It's a comfy bed." She bounced up and down a bit for emphasis and Jiyong groaned,

"Oh my god, get off my bed."

She pouted, reaching out to smack him across the back of the head,

"You suck. See if I ever let you fuck me again."

Dami's squeak of indignation was drown out by Jiyong's snort of laughter.

\---

Jiyong felt bad, sort of like he had used her.

They'd slept together and then he'd ended up locked in the studio for the next four weeks straight. Daesung's mini album was done and that was all that mattered, but still. He'd make time for her now.

Dae's first title track had dropped on Monday. They'd spent a grueling forty-eight hours on a beach on Jeju recording his music video, but seeing the song climb up the charts was worth it. His comeback was tonight and Jiyong was determined to be there for him, start to finish. Recording for MNET Countdown always ran obnoxiously late, but they all planned to go out to a little barbeque place afterwards that often opened late for them and Jiyong had invited Lauren along.

Jiyong stood in the wings, smiling so wide his face hurt. Daesung played around on stage, smiling his gorgeous smile. The song sounded amazing, an upbeat love song he was surprised he'd managed to wring out of his head. When that week's trophy was placed in Dae's hands he couldn't contain the tiny shout of joy that escaped his lips.

He slung his arm around Daesung's shoulders as they left the dressing room, sliding into the car next to him.

"You seem like you're in a much better mood lately." Daesung said cautiously, smiling at him, eyes hopeful.

Jiyong smiled back.

"Yeah, I've got someone I want you to meet. She'll be there tonight."

He didn't miss the tiny furrow that flashed between Daesung's brows before it was replaced with his customary grin.

"Sure, I'd love to meet her."

Lauren entered the restaurant about fifteen minutes after they did. She was dressed just as casually as she usually was, but he'd never seen her look so nervous. He stood up, pulling a chair out for her. He brushed a soft kiss across her cheek before taking his own seat. He ignored the curious looks from his friends and colleagues.

"This is Lauren Oh, a friend of mine. She just happened to be in the area so I invited her to eat with us." His companions nodded and he turned to her, "Lauren, this is my manager Soonho, my friend Yang Seungho, and my bandmates, Kang Daesung and Dong Youngbae. You already know Seungri."

She bowed her head politely, "It's nice to meet you." She murmured.

Seungri snorted and Jiyong glared at him.

Their waiter appeared with a platter of meat and a couple of bottle of soju. Jiyong kicked Seungri under the table.

"Don't you have some meat to grill?" He asked, winking at him.

"Yah, I always grill the meat, don't act like I don't." Seungri muttered, grabbing the tongs.

"...you have no idea how many times I've been asked if I'm related to Sandra Oh." Lauren laughed, shaking her head. "I've had to explain so many times that just because we have the same last name doesn't mean we're related."

Alcohol had served to relax her and she was currently regaling the table with tales of growing up in the American television industry.

Her hand brushed across his thigh and he took a shot to cover his flush. Seungri eyed him for a moment before he stood from the table,

"Hyung, can I talk to you?"

Jiyong followed him into the bathroom where the maknae leaned his hip against the sink and regarded him smugly.

"So... Lauren, huh?" when Jiyong only shrugged he asked, "What happened to Bric?"

Jiyong shrugged again. "He was boring. Vapid. We didn't really have much in common."

"And you do with Lauren?" Seungri asked, obviously not convinced.

"A lot, actually. Why are you being like this? You introduced us." Jiyong could feel himself getting defensive and tried to take a step back.

"I did, but... you weren't suppose to like her, Jiyong. She was like... third string. She's not someone I would ever want you to date. You were just supposed to-"

"Supposed to what?"

"Never mind, hyung. Just forget it."

Seungri shouldered by and Jiyong frowned after him.

\---

Jiyong lay next to her, his tattooed fingers walking down her side and over the curve of her hip.

"How would you feel about a trip to Japan?"

Lauren lifted up on her elbows to meet his eyes. "Japan?"

"Yeah," He reached out to brush an inky tendril of hair out of her eyes. Her last show had changed the color and he missed the green. "It's my birthday next week. Yoon has sort of declared herself official party planner for my birthdays when I'm not busy. You want to come or what?"

She regarded him for a moment before she smiled, nodding. "Sure, sounds like fun."

He met her at her hotel, where she slipped into the back seat of the car with him without a moment's hesitation.

The party was in a rented penthouse in Tokyo, an intimate space, much classier than he was use to Yoon's parties being, but he was trying something new. He had his hand in a lot more professional ventures these days and he wanted to keep his image a bit cleaner than he had in the past. At least until his new business partners got more comfortable with the idea of working with an idol.

They stepped off the elevator and Jiyong was immediately met with handshakes and hugs and well wishes. A glass of champagne was shoved into this hand and he turned to ask Lauren if she wanted anything, but she was gone. His eyes skipped around the room until he found her over by the food, engaged in a conversation of her own. He turned back to his own companions, leaving her be. He'd find her later.

Later ended up being almost two hours. She didn't turn up again until he'd said hello to and chatted with almost every guest. Then she was by his side, gently taking his empty champagne flute and handing him a small plate of food.

"Having fun?" She asked, smiling at him brightly.

"Sure, what about you? You kind of disappeared on me."

She shrugged, "Didn't want to get in anyone's way."

She reached up to brush some crumbs off his bottom lip and his hand curled around hers, pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist. She blushed, pulling away.

"Jiyong?"

He turned, smile already in place, to greet his guest when he realized who it was.

"Kiko?" He blinked, "I didn't think you'd be here."

"Of course I'm here, honey, I wouldn't miss your birthday." She wrapped her arms around his neck in a gentle hug.

As she pulled away, Lauren slipped her hand back into his, sliding up against his side.

"Jiyongie, aren't you going to introduce me?" Her voice took on that same brittle quality it got when she spoke with her girlfriends, and he placed an arm around her waist, reigning her in.

"Kiko Mizuhara, this is Lauren Oh. Lauren, Kiko."

"It's so nice to meet you." Lauren said, barely glancing at her even though she was the one who'd asked for an introduction. "Sweetheart, I'm going to get something to drink. Do you want anything?" She asked, smiling up at him.

"Sure, I could drink another glass of champagne, but you don't have to get it." He frowned at bit, but she was already waving him off, a quick kiss pressed to the corner of his lips before she flitted off into the crowd.

Kiko smiled at him nervously,

"New girlfriend?"

"Something like that."

"Something like that?" She repeated, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"We haven't really talked about it yet."

"Well she seems... interested?" Kiko laughed, sipping from her own glass. "I say go for it."

"I might."

He excused himself to use the restroom. Afterwards he stood in front of the sink and checked his messages. He scrolled down through all the threads, all the conversations, until his eyes finally landed on a name.

Seunghyun.

On autopilot, he pressed his finger against the characters that made up his name, scrolling down to the last message he'd sent him that night when his heart had been desperately trying not to burst in his chest. The little message next to it had changed to read. Had changed to read four months ago according to the tiny string of numbers next to it.

Of course he’d seen that Seunghyun had left basic training, that he was working for the public relation office as an ambassador. Of course he’d seen his occasional updates on Instagram. He’d even considered unfollowing him, but that would be bad for the group’s image.

But it never occurred to him that Seunghyun could have read his message, had read it and never responded.

He'd read his message and had chosen to ignore it.

The fact bounced around in his head, rearranging itself until there was no other way he could possibly put it.

Seunghyun had read his message and he didn't care.

Jiyong shoved his phone back into his pocket.

He opened the bathroom door and stepped outside.

Lauren was sitting on a couch next to Yoon. She was laughing, the sound carried across the room and he watched her. He stood there and watched her for a good twenty minutes.

Did he love her? Hell no.

But he could sure as hell try.

\---

He took her out on a date. A real date.

He dressed up, took her to an expensive restaurant, bought the best wine on the list, the whole deal.

He bought her a present, earrings he'd seen at a shop displayed in the window.

"Are these real rubies?" She asked, looking at him like he was crazy.

He shrugged. "It's not a big deal."

She shook her head, "I can't wear these! What if I lose one? These probably cost more than my rent for an entire year."

Jiyong pushed his chair around the table, taking the box from her hands. He reached up and gently removed the backs from the posts of the studs she was wearing before slipping them into her ears. She stared up at him, her expression torn somewhere between bemused and embarrassed.

"Well I can't take them back now, you're already wearing them."

\---

He stepped out of the elevator and froze. At first he thought a fan had made it past security and was sitting on the floor in front of his door, but then she turned her head and he realized it was Lauren.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, checking his watch. It was almost three o'clock in the morning.

"I forgot my keys at home and my roommate is in London." She said, "So I thought I'd just wait for you to get home."

He grasped her hand and pulled her up from the ground.

"Why didn't you just call? I could have had Soonho come let you in or something."

She shrugged, "You were busy."

He unlocked the door, pulling her inside. His hands settled in her hair and he kissed her gently.

"I'm never too busy to stop if you need me."

She laughed, that laugh that reminded him so much of glass breaking.

"Don't be an idiot." She brushed past him, toeing her shoes off before stepping into the kitchen. "I'm starving."

"There's food in the freezer." His chef had stocked up when he was last there. "How long were you waiting for?"

"I got here around ten when my rehearsal ended."

He grabbed her shoulders, turning her to face him.

"Lauren, that's like five hours."

She shrugged again, refusing to meet his eyes. Jiyong turned from her and strode to his desk, he opened the drawer before he lost his nerve and snatched a spare key from inside. He held the key out to her, her eyes widened and she stepped back like she thought it might be radioactive or something.

"Are you crazy? Don't give me that!"

He stepped closer to her, fishing around in her jacket pocket for her keys. He slipped the key onto the ring and tried not to think about the last person who’s key ring had held that particular key.

Lauren sighed.

\---

"Who's wedding is this again?"

"He was a trainee with me when we were kids. His name is Wonshik. He works as a back up dancer for Cube now, but we've kept in touch."

Lauren nodded, smoothing the planes of the lilac colored dress she was wearing. It was the most dressed up he'd ever seen her off the runway and he couldn't deny that he loved seeing her this way.

They sat next to each other throughout the ceremony and walked hand in hand through the receiving line. She'd been a bit resistant to the idea of accompanying when he'd first brought it up, but when he'd said he'd just have to find another date she'd glared at him and agreed.

Dinner was good, and afterward the reception was a lot of fun. There was an open bar and everyone got more than tipsy.

Near the end of the night Noreul Saranghae came on and Jiyong laughed quietly into her hair pressing a kiss there.

"Did I ever tell you about the Coffee Prince parody we did?" He held her close as they swayed to the music.

She snorted against his chest. "I've seen it. I prefer the Secret Garden parody, myself."

Jiyong smiled down at her wryly.

"Yeah. Me, too."

\---

Jiyong heard a set of keys scraping in the lock, but he didn't move from his place on the couch. He was warm and fuzzy and comfortable. He wasn't moving for anything in the world.

He brought the beer in his hand back to his lips as the door swung open.

A familiar purple head of hair appeared, bowed over a purse the size of the Grand Canyon. Jiyong eyed her as she muttered to herself, digging through her monster of a bag for god knows what.

"Close the door, babe. You'll let the crazies in."

Lauren looked up at him, retort poised on her lips, when she stopped. She eyed him in return, one eyebrow cocked in question. She shut the door and leaned back against it.

"So...what are you wearing, exactly?"

He looked down at himself and shrugged.

"Clothes."

Lauren's eyes traveled down him, taking in the loose tank top and the lime green lounge pants he'd thrown on after his shower.

"Are those leggings?" She asked, barely concealing the amusement that threatened to color her words.

"So what if they are?"

"Women's leggings?"

Jiyong snorted, rising from the couch to stand in front of her. He leaned in close, breathe mingling with hers,

"So what if they are?"

Her lips curled up in a sneer.

"They're awfully tight, aren't they?"

He grinned, taking another swig from his beer.

"They're comfortable." he answered, "Are you complaining?"

"No." Her eyes sparkled as she leaned in, closing the gap between them until he thought she was going to kiss him. Instead, she whispered, "Are you sure you have the ass for leggings? I'm not sure you can pull them off."

Jiyong shoved her away, laughing.

"Fuck you, my ass is amazing."

\---

Jiyong pressed a kiss against her forehead. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, under the covers in the dark.

The words left his lips before he really even thought about them.

"You should move in. You're always here anyway."

"Fuck you, I don't want to move in. I like having my own place."

He tried not to feel too guilty about the wave of relief he felt at her words.

He was still working on this loving her thing.

He cared about her, a whole fucking lot. A lot more than he'd bothered to care about anyone in a long, long time.

But he wasn't there yet.

He didn't know if he ever would be.

\---

It had been almost a month since Wonshik's wedding, but there he was in a tux, Lauren in her lilac dress, on the front page of every gossip rag in Asia.

A guest had uploaded a video of them dancing to Youtube. There he was kissing her hair, there she was laughing at his stupid jokes, fondness more than apparent in the lines of their bodies and in the way they held each other close.

Hyunsuk was on the phone.

"What do you want me to say to them?"

"What you always say to them."

"They're not gonna buy it this time, Jiyong."

"I don't really care."

\---

_[We at YG Entertainment try not to meddle in our stars personal lives. G-Dragon has not given us any kind of personal insight into his relationship with Miss Oh. We are unqualified to make a statement on the rumors surrounding their friendship at this time..]_

\---

"Coward!"

Jiyong winced, the word rattling around his skull as he entered his building.

They'd been out there for three days, waiting for him. He'd finally had to leave for a meeting and could no longer avoid them.

Coward, they called him. Afraid. If he loved her he should just say so and stop lying to his fans. That's what they said.

But if he told them he loved her, he'd be lying to them then, too.

She was waiting for him when he got home.

She was drunk and she was high and he was caught off guard.

"I'm not your girlfriend, Jiyong!" She hissed, finger jabbing sharply into his chest.

"I never said you were."

"You didn't say that I wasn't either!" She yelled, whirling to stomp into the kitchen.

"I'm sorry..."

"I don't want to be your girlfriend!" She continued, pouring herself a glass of water. "I had to change my instagram to private because of the comments from your crazy fucking fans. I got fired from two shows today. Said they didn't want the negative publicity." She slammed to glass down on the counter without taking a drink, looking up at him with tears in her eyes. "Tell them that I'm not."

He pulled her close and whispered against the top of her head,

"Okay..."

\---

He lost her in the club.

She said she was going to the restroom but she never came back.

He found her, but he found him, too.

He didn't even know who he was. Just some fucking dude with his lips on her neck and his hand up her shirt.

Jiyong grabbed him by the shoulder, pulled him away from her. The guy whirled around, ready for fight, but he paused when his eyes met Jiyong's. A sleazy smile settled on his face instead.

"Don't worry about it, man, I was done with her anyway."

He watched the guys retreating back before he turned to her.

Her back was pressed against the wall, her chest heaving like a cornered animal, her eyes shining in the light.

"I'm not your girlfriend." She whispered.

"I know," He thought that he should probably be more upset about this than he was, but he just couldn't find it in him to fight with her. "Just... if you want to continue not being my girlfriend, don't do..this...again. I don't like to share."

\---

"I feel like shit."

Lauren stepped out of the bathroom and made a beeline for her purse. She pulled out a few aspirin and knocked them back dry.

She flopped on the couch between him and Youngbae and he slung an arm around her shoulders.

They'd had a tense couple of weeks, but he understood. Being a part of his life was never easy. There was trail of broken relationships leading to his door. If she wanted to be here in any way, shape, or form, he was going to keep her. He would give her whatever she needed to stay by his side, even if that meant he didn't put a label on this thing between them. Whatever it was.

She pressed her face into his shoulder and sat like that for a moment, before she let out a low moan and rushed for the bathroom again.

"What's wrong with her? Jesus, should I be wearing a mask?" Youngbae asked, flinching at the sounds of retching echoing off the bathroom walls.

"I think she's just got food poisoning or something." Jiyong said, trying to sound casual despite how concerned he was.

"So, like, are we still going to the club tonight?"

"Yes." Lauren said as she passed them on her way to the kitchen.

"Yes." Jiyong shrugged. If she threw up on someone it would make for a good story at least.

\---

The lights flashed and the music was loud.

He'd already taken way too many shots, and Lauren was urging yet another into his hands. He laughed, shoving it back.

“Aren’t you going to drink anything?”

"I'm good." She smiled up at him, before reaching into her blouse. She shook the tiny clear bottle at him, "Yes?"

He nodded and she plucked a capsule from the bottle and held it to his lips. Chuckling, he took it and threw back the shot to wash it down. One more wasn't going to hurt anything.

Next thing he knew, she was shoving him onto a cab, pulling him up the steps, into the elevator, coaxing him into bed. His lips found hers and his hands flowed across the lines of her body, but that was the last thing he remembered.

In the morning, he woke up and immediately knew something was off.

It was too quiet. No hiss from the coffee maker, not off key singing, no cheesy American pop music.

He stumbled out of bed, the room was spinning and his stomach was rolling but he had to know.

She wasn't in the kitchen.

The living room was empty.

Her cosmetics were gone from the bathroom counter.

Her drawer in his bedroom was empty.

...the key was on his night stand.

She was gone.

She'd gotten him black out drunk, high, and left in the early hours of the morning.

There was no note.

She was gone.

His stomach gave a fairly unpleasant lurch that had him dodging into his bathroom.

Jiyong leaned his sweaty forehead against the porcelain and asked himself if he was really that surprised?

They always left in the end.

\---

Two weeks later he passed the receptionist at YG, who gave him a startled look before shouting a hurried,

"Merry Christmas!"

"Merry fucking Christmas." He scoffed to himself as the elevator door slide closed behind him.

Teddy was in the breakroom down the hall and he poked his head out as he passed.

"Jiyong!" He called after him, "I didn't see you on the schedule. What are you doing here?"

"Working. I'm thinking a comeback just in time for the new year."

Teddy's eyes widened, "Oh shit, really?"

"Yeah, I should be able to get everything down by February."

"Well, don't work too hard.. I'll leave you alone then."

Jiyong snorted, "Yeah, okay."

He opened the door to their studio, took in the Janet Jackson poster on the wall and the worn black leather couch that had seen some moments he'd rather not think about right now.

He started up the computer and opened up his folder with his own name on it.

Jiyong settled his headphones over his ears and edged the volume up to just above his comfort level.

Maybe he hadn't made himself clear before when he’d told the world.

Leave me alone

I was alone anyway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The song Noreul Saranghae is from the Coffee Prince OST.
> 
> SO.
> 
> Sorry this took a minute, I wanted to do this right.
> 
> Next chapter is Seunghyun and will follow a similar time lapse format to catch us up on his life to where Jiyong is currently.
> 
> PLEASE DON'T HATE ME I PROMISE YOU'LL LIKE WHERE THIS IS GOING!!!
> 
> *also Eldritch is next on my list so don't murder me over that either*
> 
> \- Annie
> 
> Lyrics in chapter image from Jet Pack Blues - Fall Out Boy  
> Come see me on tumblr [hoseokie-jung ❤︎](http://hoseokie-jung.tumblr.com/)


	10. DISENGAGE

* * *

 

DISENGAGE 

 _[verb]_  

1\. to release from attachment or connection; loosen; unfasten. 

2\. to free (oneself) from an engagement, pledge, obligation, etc.

3\. _Military_ : to break off action with (an enemy). 

4\. to become disengaged; free oneself.

 _Etymology_ : from Middle French _desengager_ ; from _dis_ , a Latin prefix meaning “apart,” “asunder,” “away,” “utterly,” or having a privative, negative, or reversing force + Old French _engagier._

* * *

"That kid looks good on you, Choi."

Seunghyun inclined his head respectfully as Sergeant Ho passed him by, hoisting Yeon Jun up just a bit higher on his hip.

Hye Yoon and his mother stood with him, smiles on their faces and tears in their eyes.

"Your father said he would be here in time for the ceremony. He had to fly in from Germany, but he asked for the time off when you enlisted so it's all in order." His mother smoothed her hands across the shoulders of his fatigues, dusting away imagine imperfections. "You look so handsome.." She mumbled to herself. Concerts and movie premieres and magazine spreads suffusing through out the last decade of his past and she gets emotional over him in uniform.

"How much longer does Appa have there?" Hye Yoon asked, just as clueless about their father's whereabouts as Seunghyun was; as they'd always been.

"Six months or so? In his last letter he said he was relocating to Japan at the end of the calendar year."

Yeon Jun reached out, tiny puffy hands patting at Seunghyun's cheeks.

"Samchon.." He implored, his delicate voice capturing his uncle's attention easily before he was off like a shot, speaking at such a pace that Seunghyun was hard pressed to keep up with him. He managed to catch about every third word or so, following the line of Yeon Jun's chubby little toddler finger to the grove of trees at the edge of the PT field the families were gathered on. He still had no idea what the boy was babbling about but he put his navigation training to good use anyway, regaling the child with fascinating and otherwise useless information for a three year old to have about trees. He told him about the different types he could see, pointing out which ones were conifers and which ones were deciduous. He told him which ones burned slowest, which ones burned cleanest, and which ones produced something even slightly edible. And if he slipped a bit of information in there about which ones were sturdy hardwood, which ones had good color and grain, no one needed to know. That was just between Yeon Jun and him.

Well, it might have been if he hadn't caught Hye Yoon watching them with that all-knowing twinkle in her eyes that all mothers seemed to magically posses regardless of their original status as your sister.

"Private Choi!"

Donghoon strolled casually across the green, two women following in his wake.

"Eomeoni, this is my second, Choi Seunghyun."

The two women gaped at him, open mouthed, and Donghoon laughed.

"Seunghyun, this is my mother, Shin Kahee, and my sister, Park Eunsol."

Seunghyun gave them his best smile and bowed as much as his hold on an over excited toddler would allow,

"It's nice to meet you."

Eunsol sputtered for a moment, a light pink flush riding high on her cheeks, before turning to whack her brother on the shoulder. Donghoon, for his part, broke into another round of laughter. 

"Park Donghoon, you didn't tell me it was _this_ Choi Seunghyun!" Eunsol scolded, her fist meeting his shoulder again. "Stop _doing_ this to me!"

She turned back to Seunghyun, fixing her hair and smiling up at him pleasantly,

"I'm so sorry, he thinks this is funny. Once he told me he wanted me to meet this guy he met on set, said his name was Woobin. Drags me out to a little hole-in-the-wall barbecue place and introduces me to _Kim Woobin_. As in _The Heirs_! I was half in love with Choi Youngdo, I have bad taste in men, I know, and there he was sitting in front of me wearing a suit with his perfect hair and his perfect smile and I was wearing _sweat pants._ " She reached behind her and swatted at her brother, punctuating her words, "Because I figured I was going to be meeting a _stagehand,_ because my stupid brother was an _extra,_ his job was to get pretend-shot-at and then play _dead,_ and I never thought for a second he'd manage to make friends with the _lead_ of the entire _movie.._ "

"Eunsol!" Their mother chided, looking more than a bit mortified, "You are a lady, act like one."

Seunghyun had his lips pressed together, holding back a laugh. Honestly, what did he expect from the sister of his charismatic unit leader?  They were truly cut from the same cloth.

"I know Woobin, he's friends with Soohyuk. He's hung out with us a few times."

Hung out with them. Flirted with Jiyong. Whatever.

Hye Yoon cleared her throat behind him and raised and eyebrow at him when he turned to look at her. He quickly introduced his mother and sister,

"And this is my nephew, Yeon Jun."

He let his sister take back her son, Hye Yoon and Eunsol cooing over the toddler while their mothers got better acquainted.

Seunghyun and Donghoon stood together a few steps away from their families. It was moments like this, when he was idle and the air around him was warm and the general feeling was companionable and easy that his fingers itched the most for a cigarette. After a decade he was more than okay with kicking the habit, even if it was more through force than anything, but he still missed it. Sometimes he wondered if he'd leave it in his past, or if he'd pick it back up again once he was free.

And wasn't that just a perfect analogy for his life? Making good decisions and improving his life, only to look back on those decisions with a perfectly clear head and saying to himself 'I'm gonna fuck that up.'

"You ready to get out of here?" Donghoon asked. He wasn't looking at him, rather, his eyes were fixed on a point somewhere off on the horizon.

Seunghyun nodded. This was the point where he'd usually take a drag. Feel the smoke burn in his lungs before he let it hiss out between his teeth.

He missed it.

"Yeah. You get your orders yet?"

Donghoon nodded, "My MOS is in Pyeongtaek at Camp Humphreys. ROKA Liaison to the American Communication and Media Relations Office. Guess all those years of study English in High School finally paid off."

Seunghyun couldn't help his snort of laughter.

"What?" Donghoon asked, laughing as well.

"I guess they couldn't break up the dream team." Seunghyun grinned at him.

In his head he threw a spent cigarette butt on the ground and crushed it beneath the sole of his shoe.

"You, too?" Donghoon asked, a slow smile making it's way across his face. "and here I was worrying about missing you, wondering how I was suppose to say goodbye and have it not be awkward. Now I've got to spend another two years with you. God, I'm going to be sick of your face."

"One year, ten months, two weeks; to be exact." He said, and his minds eye conjured up Jiyong, like that was his end game. The goal he was working towards.

He turned to walk back towards his family, Donghoon falling into step beside him. Imaginary smoke from a bad habit he was suppose to be happy about leaving behind swirling in his mind with the image of the man he was suppose to be giving up, too.

" _So_ sick of your face."

\---

If it was possible for a something to be simultaneously the most pompous thing he'd ever witnessed and also boring as sin, the graduation ceremony achieved it.  The Republic of Korea Army seemed to have mastered that particular talent long ago. Honed their skills to a fine edge.

Every recruit who passed their final exams stood at attention in their dress uniforms. An insignia made up of four thick black lines announced Seunghyun's new rank as a _Byeongjang_ for the first time.

He was official Sergeant Choi Seunghyun of the Republic of Korea Armed Forces.

Their commanding officers made speech after speech, lauding their progress and promising them bright futures. Most of it went in one ear and out the other. Seunghyun's arms had long since gone to sleep and his calves ached. Overall, it was just another day in what his life had become over the last six weeks.

Which was why he was a bit surprised when Drill Sergeant Ho stepped up to the podium. His handsome face as stoic as ever, he cleared his throat before he spoke,

"Over the years I have had the opportunity to work with many of the men that our society would label as 'idols'. That title does not impress me. What I am impressed by is hard work, dedication, the ability to be a leader, to stand out as a man amongst men. With every rotation of recruits, we give out an accolade, an award if you will. It is our top honors here at the Nonsan Training Center, the First in Training. To be acknowledged as our best, brightest recruit. Our most promising. Today, I would like to bestow this honor upon Sergeant Park Donghoon, who lead Unit Number Eight; Platoon Seven, for not only leading his unit to achieve the highest overall scores in our final exams, but he, himself, achieved the highest individual score out of all recruits."

Donghoon blinked next to him and suddenly Seunghyun felt more at home in his own skin than he had in weeks. He discreetly shoved his friend forward in the same way he'd shoved forward shocked band members all his professional life, fighting a smile the entire time.

Sergeant Ho pinned a small medal to Donghoon's chest before he shook his hand.

"Sergeant Park will now pick a fellow soldier to represent the recruits and recite the oath."

Oh, no.

Oh shit.

Donghoon inclined his head in Seunghyun's direction and Seunghyun put all his mental abilities into trying to make the younger man blow up or something just with the power of his mind.

With a heavy sigh, he climbed the steps to stand next to Donghoon. Sergeant Ho nodded for them to begin.

The words flowed easily from his lips, they'd had to recite the oath over and over again until they got it perfect in class. Side by side with Donghoon, Seunghyun pledged to serve the army as a model soldier.

Out in the crowd, he caught sight of his sister and Yeon Jun. Next to her, his mother, and next to her, stood his father. He hadn't seen his father properly in, _christ_ , it had to have been over a year. Two years wouldn't even sound ridiculous. His caught his eye, inclined his head at him, and for the first time in Seunghyun's adult life he thought his father might just be a little bit proud of him.

After the ceremony ended they were allowed another hour to say goodbye to their families for the second time in so many weeks. Tonight was one last final inspection and then one more lights out. Tomorrow morning buses would be arriving to take them to their new assignments.

Seunghyun made his way through the crowd, politely thanking those who congratulated him, shaking the hand of the occasional person who told him they liked his music. Once he reached his family, he immediately grasped his father's hand and bowed.

" _Abeonim_ , I'm honored you could make it."

"Of course I'm here. You're my son. I wouldn't miss this for the world. You looked like a real man up there, you'll make a fine officer some day if you work hard and keep your nose clean." Seunghyun held back a long-suffering sigh and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He looked like a real man up there? Of course he did, he was thirty years old for fuck's sake. But he wasn't about to get into that with his father. The military wasn't ever going to be a part of his life long enough for him to become an officer, but they'd been down this road before. A road lined with speed bumps with peculiar names like 'music isn't a career' and 'a job meant for a man'.

"I can't stay long." His father was saying, "My flight leaves in a couple of hours and I need to be back at base before then."

"Certainly, by all means, don't make yourself late on my behalf." Seunghyun nodded, more than use to his father's disappearing acts. All his life the man had popped in and out like a supporting player in a bad production. He watched ruefully as the man ruffled Yeon Jun's hair, kissed Hye Yoon's cheek, and pulled his mother into a quick hug before he clapped Seunghyun on the shoulder and then he was off. His father's promise to call his mother the last real words he'd hear from the man for another two years, he was sure.

If he was lucky.

\---

Seunghyun sat down on the poor excuse for a mattress Junyoung called his own. In his hand, he held two envelopes. One for Junyoung, the other for Injun.

They stopped mid sentence, looking at him with a mixture of awe and trepidation. While they had long gotten over their animosity towards him, it seemed to have morphed into some sort of combination of terror and hero worship that Seunghyun at turns found both endearing and kind of awkward.

"I thought about what you said to me," He started, "That day in the supply depot. About how there was nothing waiting for you after the military?"

The two boys looked at him blankly and Seunghyun was once again struck by just how young they were. He called them boys in his head, but really it's what they _were_. Children. They deserved a chance at something in life, some sort of happiness.

"I wrote these for you. They're letters of recommendation to Yang Hyunsuk. You're both intelligent, driven young men. I'm sure there's a place for you somewhere at YG. You can train to become managers, work with the stage crews. Hell, you're both young enough, younger than me when I started out. You could even sign on as trainees. Junyoung, I've heard you sing. If you had some training.. we'll I'm not gonna tell you you'd make it but there's a chance. And Injun, I'm not the best at it but I could set you up with some of our producers? Teach you how to make music? Whatever you want to do, I want to help you do it."

Junyoung looked back and forth between the letter and Seunghyun's face for a few moments before he reached out and tugged one from between his fingers. He hefted it in his hands, felt the weight of the paper in his palms.

"Y-you mean it? I could become a trainee?"

Seunghyun nodded, "We'll see. Yang owes me some favors. I've never asked him for much. I don't see why he wouldn't let you at least try, especially if I agree to take responsibility for you."

Injun took his own letter, "Managing sounds cool.. I'd-I'd like to do that. I'd get to travel and meet cool people..."

Seunghyun laughed, "There's definitely more too it than that, but yeah. I think you'd make a good manager."

"Could you still teach me how to make music?"

"Sure. I can do that."

\---

First light, last wake up call.

Seunghyun slung his bags over his shoulder and followed the crowd out to the buses, looking for one marked for Camp Humphreys.

"Sergeant Choi."

A man in a crisp officer's uniform stood off to the side of the general hustle and bustle next to a sleek looking unmarked car. He pointed to himself and the man nodded.

"Sergeant Choi, I've been asked to escort you and Sergeant Park to Camp Humphreys. If you'd please follow me."

Seunghyun followed him around the back of the car where he was shown the trunk. Inside he found bags marked with Donghoon's information and he figured he must already be inside the vehicle, hidden from sight by tinted windows.

Sure enough when he opened the door and slide inside he was met with Donghoon smiling face.

"Fancy ride, huh?" The younger man chirped, kicking back and enjoying all the leg space.

They pulled out ahead of the buses, leaving a good two hours before the rest of their fellow recruits were scheduled to head out. As they pulled away, he felt a momentary twinge of sadness. He doubted he'd ever see any of the members of Unit Eight ever again. Not Keunsuk or Sergeant Ho or even that really tall guy from Unit Two. Maybe he'd see Junyoung and Injun again. Maybe.

He looked at the man sitting next to him, hat pulled down low over his eyes to catch some extra sleep and was suddenly struck by how fond he had grown of Donghoon. He hadn't felt so much at ease with someone new in years. He was glad he didn't have to leave him behind, too.

The drive from Nonsan to Pyeongtaek was about an hour and a half long. Roughly a one hundred kilometer drive up the coast through Chungnam-do. On the way they passed through Gongju and Cheonan and he was reminded of just how little time he'd spent outside of the city in the last decade of his life. He briefly considered the idea of purchasing a home off in some little village, something modest and down-to-earth. He'd sneak out of the city and hide away where no one would think to look for him. No paparazzi, no fans, no mangers. He'd put on his mask and a baseball cap and walk down to the corner store to buy cheap ramyun for dinner because he'd be too lazy to cook and he'd make friends with the little old couple who ran it and...

But he'd be lonely. There'd be no Daesung to crawl into bed with him and stare at the ceiling when he couldn't bring himself to come out of his house and there's be no Youngbae to come over for dinner even though it was three o'clock in the morning and dinner actually meant 'wine, cheese, and an old tour dvd'. There'd be no Seungri to call him and try to pester him into going to a club. There'd be no Jiyong.

The walls of Camp Humphrey's came into view and he thought about how his members would fare with their own enlistment. Jiyong and Youngbae would probably be joining him in a year or so. Then when he got out, Daesung would be going in. It'd be just him and Seungri for a year or so. His lips twitched into the skeleton of a smile, thinking about the kind of music the two of them could make as a subunit. He should send the maknae a text. Tell him to start working on some material.

If he'd even want to work with Seunghyun. If Seungri would be able to find it in himself to forgive him by then.

The car passed through multiple security check points, finally rolling to a stop in front of an official looking building.

They exited the car, the officer who drove them handing off the vehicle to a soldier who looked for all the world like a glorified valet.

He lead them inside and into an elevator where they rode to the third floor. From there, they followed him down a busy hallway to an office door that read

_**Department Head Jang - Korean Augmentation To the United States Army** _

"Sergeant Choi, Sergeant Park. I'm honored to make your acquaintance."

The heavyset man behind the desk barely looked up at them. He shuffled around some papers on his desk, producing two thin folders, tossing them at them. "My name is Lieutenant Colonel Jang, and you'll be reporting to me for the duration of your stay here at Camp Humphreys. Here in the KATUSA program our job is to make things as easy and as simple as we possibly can for the U.S. Army in Korea. You'll be working as a team. Sergeant Park, you're English skills will have you working closely with the Americans. Sergeant Choi, your public image will make it easy for you to work on the Korean side of things. Your job is to guide your assigned American peers through their duties and interactions here in South Korea. Park, you're to make sure they get any information they need to do their job. Choi, your job is to gage the reaction on the Korean side of things and report back to Park so he can report back to the Americans. Make sense?"

It was all pretty much clear as mud to Seunghyun, but he nodded anyway. The folder in his hands would tell him everything he needed to know.

"Good. You're bags have been taken to your housing. We didn't have two empty spots so you're being split up, sorry about that. Lieutenant Kim will escort you home. Work starts at 0700 hours in the morning, be here on this floor by then. Dismissed."

Seunghyun blinked, but he was use to rapid dismissals having worked under Yang Hyunsuk most of his adult life, so he simply turned and followed the officer out and back down the elevator. Officer Kim requisitioned them what was essentially a fancy golf cart and then they were off.

"Everything you need is on base. There's no need to go into Cheonan unless you really want to. There's a grocery store, a g-mart, a fresh food market, a bakery, a book store. Fast food. There's lots of American families here. Men who brought their wives and kids. There's an American style school on the base. Most of the families don't like having to leave base to get what they need since most of them don't speak enough Korean to get around."

They turned up a street lined with what looked like modular four-plex style homes. "This is your stop, Sergeant Park. 213 Hibiscus Lane. They like to name their street like they do back home. You're unit 2B so, top floor. Lucky. You have two room mates. Two Korean and one American. There's built in laundry, so you don't have to go to the laundry mat. There's a phone directory that can tell you how to ring and arrange transportation to work, but it should already be set up since you're roommates have to go in, too. Housing comes straight out of your check so you don't have to worry about setting up payment. Pay Day is Monday at midnight bi-weekly. Any questions."

Donghoon shook his head, smiling, "Nope, I think you've just about answered everything. I'll text you later, Seunghyun. Damn, it's nice to have our phones back. See you tomorrow at work." Donghoon spilled out of the cart, taking the key from Officer Kim and tromping through the front door of his new home, throwing a jovial wave over his shoulder at them before closing the door behind him.

"You're a couple of blocks over, Sergeant Choi. You have three roommates as well, all Korean. 542 Chamomile Road. All the roads around here are named after teas. I think they were trying to make it seem more 'Asian' but it sort of comes off as racist, don't you think? You'll be in Unit 1B, bottom floor. Bummer. Hope the guys above you are light on their feet and keep decent hours. Same deal as before, in suite laundry, rent is taken care of, payday every other Monday, call for transportation if you need it." They pulled up to an identical looking complex and Officer Kim tossed him his new door key. "Happy Moving day, welcome to Camp Humphreys."

\---

Seunghyun's roommate were all younger than him. It was something he'd just come to accept as part of his life in the army. Chung Kibin, Hwang Seonok, and Cha Joonki. He kept telling himself that he was going to remember their names but he wasn't banking on it just yet. His phone pinged in his pocket and he pulled it out, cringing at the way Donghoon had programmed himself in. Donghoonie with a little heart afterwards, lord save him.

 **From: Donghoonie <3**  
**Sent: 08:13, April 26 2016**

My new American friend's name is Matt Johnson.

How god damn cute is that??

 

 **From: Choi Seunghyun**  
**Sent: 08:14, April 26 2016**

I'm not sure what you mean, Donghoon

 **From: Donghoonie <3**  
**Sent: 08:15, April 26 2016**

How much more American can you get?

Matt. Johnson.

Matt Johnson.

That's his actual name.

Matt

Johnson

 **From: Choi Seunghyun**  
**Sent: 08:17, April 26 2016**

you're easily amused, aren't you?

 **From: Donghoonie <3**  
**Sent: 08:18, April 26 2016**

I bet he drives a pick-up truck.

I bet he grew up on a farm.

I bet his parents grow corn.

and they have cows.

Cows, Seunghyun.

 **From: Choi Seunghyun**  
**Sent: 08:20, April 26 2016**

........

I don't know how to respond to that

 **From: Donghoonie <3**  
**Sent: 08:21, April 26 2016**

I bet he knows how to ride a horse.

and like

not chaebol 'i play polo' ride a horse

I bet he does that rodeo shit

 

 **From: Choi Seunghyun**  
**Sent: 08:23, April 26 2016**

Well why don't you ask him?

In the mean time, It's barely 9am.

I'm gonna unpack and take a nap

Have fun with your American I guess??

Don't hurt him.

Seunghyun rubbed a hand across his face, equal parts exasperated and amused.

He looked around the small room he'd been given.

It was already furnished. A small bed with plain linens and a side table, a dresser, and a fairly large closet.

He set about unpacking his bags, placing his folded clothes in the drawers, his boots in the bottom of the closet. He hung his uniforms up and set his one lonesome picture frame on the side table.

Now that he had an address he could have his mother send him some things from the villa. His laptop, some more photos, a few decorative pieces, some more civilian clothes. Movies and books from his private collection. He flopped back on his bed and closed his eyes, willing sleep to drag him under.

But it was no use. He found himself scrolling through Instagram and considered snapping his first Freedom Selca, but he thought that would be rude to everyone back home. Instead he decided to text Daesung.

 **From: Choi Seunghyun**  
**Sent: 08:45, April 26 2016**

Freedom!!

 **From: Dae**  
**Sent: 08:47, April 26 2016**

You have your phone back??

 **From: Choi Seunghyun**  
**Sent: 08:48, April 26 2016**

Yep.

Officially done with basic training.

I'm at my new post now.

Camp Humphreys in Pyeongtaek.

 **From: Dae**  
**Sent: 08:49, April 26 2016**

That's great!

You're not too far away.

Humphreys is KATUSA territory, you're working with the US?

You should get some free days eventually, then.

Let me know when, I'll come see you.

 **From: Choi Seunghyun**  
**Sent: 08:51, April 26 2016**

I am.

Sounds like a plan.

I'm beat, though.

Gonna take a nap.

I'm gonna make a post on instagram

but I thought i'd let you know personally

you know since you don't believe in sns and all ;)

 

 **From: Dae**  
**Sent: 08:53, April 26 2016**

I'm getting ready to head into work anyway

thanks for letting me know

take care of yourself okay?

 **From: Choi Seunghyun**  
**Sent: 08:55, April 26 2016**

will do

 

That done, there was only one thing left he really felt compelled to do. He raised his phone above his head and snapped a photo, his hair a mess and he had bags under his eyes to rival a certain maknae but he was happy with it.

He posted it to Instagram with the caption 'are ghosts allowed to be sergeants in the military?'

He smiled slightly to himself as the likes and comments started pouring in. He shoved his phone under his pillow and promptly fell asleep.

\---

Camp Humphreys, he learned from the perky blonde woman who rattled off facts at him at lighting speed in perfect Korean, was located about sixty-five kilometers outside of Seoul and was the most active airfield in the Pacific. He followed her down the hall, listening the the smart sounding click the low heels of her shoes made on the tiled floor.

"This is where you'll work when you're in the office." She lead him into a room filled with cubicles. The sounds of people making and taking phone calls at a polite volume in both Korean and English filled the room. As he passed a desks, he even heard a few conversations being held in Japanese and Mandarin.

"This is your desk. User sign in for the computer is your serial number and enlistment date. Here at the USAG Community Relations Program our goal is the strengthen Korean-American relationships at both a local and national level. You'll be working with our Community Outreach projects, most specifically the Good Neighbor project which provides sponsorship to orphanages and homes for the elderly. We also have an educational outreach program and a community clean up project. We're also in charge of the cultural outreach programs here on base, which we're very excited to have you and Sergeant Park for. The program includes things like getting the Americans on base to participate in Korean Holidays, tours of popular sites of historic interest, getting them excited about learning the language and interacting with the populace. Having celebrities around will be a real treat for them. On the media relations side of things, Sergeant Park will be handling the English side of press releases, but you we want to handle the Korean. You'll speak on the behalf of the military, from a script of course, at press releases, do interviews about your time here, and work with the advertising department to make sure the advertisements should be well received by the Korean public. Everything making sense?"

Seunghyun nodded slowly, "I got it. We're like Military Public Relations but our job is to make the Americans look good?" He realized after he said it that she was probably an American and he coughed, trying to hide a sudden burst of mild panic and embarrassment, but she just smiled at him and agreed.

"Yes, sir. That's pretty much it. Go ahead and log in, you have a few training modules to complete and then we'll take you down to meet the heads of the different projects and get a bit of schedule set up for you."

\---

It turned out that working an office job was a dreadful mix of high pressure situations and mind numbing boredom. Over the next few weeks he went back and forth between the two, panicking when unfamiliar situations required his immediate attention and then turning right around and spending hours filling out the same forms over and over again.

It wasn't long before he felt that familiar edge of darkness creeping into the corners of his consciousness. He felt himself getting frustrated. Frustrated with his roommates, frustrated with his co-workers, frustrated with his perky blonde boss, frustrated with the soldiers on base who couldn't even be bothered to learn a word of Korean but who expected him to speak perfect English.

In the past when he was falling into a hole like this, Daesung would be the one to drag him out. He'd literally crawl into the hole with him and hoist him out by his dirty, unwashed armpits if he needed him to. When Daesung wasn't enough there was Youngbae and his unshakable faith and his understanding nature. When Youngbae wasn't enough he had Jiyong. Jiyong who had loved him unconditionally and never let him forget it. Jiyong who, when no one could hoist him out of his hole, set up camp with him inside of it. He needed someone to set up camp with him now.

Donghoon tried, he really did, but Seunghyun didn't think the younger man had ever been depressed a day in his life. His version of helping was buying beer on their days off and sitting him down to play endless games of poker with him and Matt Johnson.

"Matt Johnson." Donghoon called out,

"Park Donghoon." The man responded, Donghoon's name embellished with a southern drawl that never ceased to make his friend grin.

"Matt Johnson, you in or out?"

"I'm in." The man, younger than Donghoon and tall as a tree, stretched his long legs out underneath their rickety kitchen table, accidentally kicking Seunghyun in the process. "Sorry, hyung." He said, tossing a couple of chips onto the table to match Donghoon's bet. Seunghyun's lips quirked at the honorific. He'd heard one of Donghoon's other roommates using it to address him and had pestered them about it until they explained to him what it meant. Now he wouldn't stop using it, his smile at learning a little bit more about the country he was stationed it was enough to keep Seunghyun for getting too annoyed with him.

"What about you, hyung? You in or out?" Seunghyun rolled his eyes. Donghoon never use to call him hyung, but once they left basic training and re-entered 'the real world' it was like he realized his mistake and now he was trying to make up for it. Usually Seunghyun was someone who stuck to traditions, who cringed at a forgotten honorific, but after so long without it, now the addition just felt too awkward.

"Fold."

"Pssh, Ham Daegil. _Fold_." Donghoon rolled his eyes.

"Ham Daegil?" Matt asked, eyebrows scrunching like he was trying to translate the name or something. Hell, he probably was, the poor kid.

"Yah, Matt Johnson, you've never seen _Tazza 2: The Hidden Card_ before?!"

"No?"

"Well now I know what _we're_ doing tonight."

"Don't you fucking dare."

Matt looked between the two of them, "It's a movie...right? Is it bad?"

Donghoon barked out a laugh. "It's awful."

"Do you want to die? Seriously? I can make it happen."

"It's one of Seunghyunnie-hyung's movies, Matt Johnson. It's about gambling."

_Seunghyunnie-hyung_

The playful address hit him like a punch to the gut. A cacophony of all the times Jiyong called his name in the exact same way ringing in his ears. It was crazy the things that could trigger him, that could throw him into an endless loop of _Jiyong_ until he found himself on the younger man's instagram browsing through his updates hoping for at least one clear shot of his face just to remind himself what he looked like, to reassure himself that he hadn't changed too much.

"I forget you guys are like, famous and shit. You're so chill."

"I'm chill. He's old. What'd you get kid? Lay'em on me!" Donghoon ducked the hand Seunghyun aimed at the back of his head and grinned up at him.

"Full House."

"Aww, that's too bad because I got Four of a Kind. I thought Americans were suppose to be good at poker? You're ruining all my preconceived notions about your people, Matt Johnson. You can't even ride a _horse."_

"I grew up in Savannah! It's a city! We didn't _have_ horses. I lived on the sixth floor."

"Were there cows?"

"In my apartment?"

"In Savannah."

"Not _in_ the city, but there were some, you know, _outside_ it."

Donghoon nodded solemnly, "That's all I needed to know, Matt Johnson."

Matt shook his head and got up to get himself another beer. Donghoon leaned towards Seunghyun conspiratorially.

"I don't even know where Savannah is."

\---

When the darkness in his head went from dwelling in the corners to front and center he knew he had to do something.

He threw himself into his work, took an active interest in it. Where before he was just doing what was asked of him, he actually started developing some plans of his own. The department head liked his ideas and let him spearhead a small project designed to get kids in the local orphanage they worked with more active in extracurricular activities. If he had knows his time in the army was going to be spent this way he wouldn't have worried about it near as much. He was actually starting to enjoy what he was doing, the fact that he was making a difference in peoples lives.

When he had free time he exercised. They may have desk jobs now, but it was the military's prerogative to put them through a PT test whenever they felt the need. He didn't want to fail one of those and run the risk of having to go through a short retraining program with the personal trainers there on base. So whenever the clouds started to darken in his mind's eye, he went for a run.

It was a crazy feeling, flying down the side walk in broad daylight, sweat running down his back, stinging his eyes, not giving two shits who saw him for the first time in his adult life. It was freeing.

He started a light weights regimen in the gym. He drug Donghoon and Matt along with him. Some days his roommate Joonki joined them.

Joonki was a quiet kid, he never said much. He had a serene air around him. Seunghyun knew the kid was wicked smart, he worked for the Intelligence department doing god knows what. He was small, slight even, barely came to Seunghyun's chin. One morning when Seunghyun was sitting on the couch letting his own thoughts eat him alive Joonki slipped out of his bedroom dressed in loose fitting clothes with a rolled up yoga mat under his arm. The younger man paused, observed him on the couch, before murmuring a quiet,

"Rough night?"

Seunghyun grunted at him, "Couldn't turn off my brain."

Joonki peered at him for a moment through the tiny round glasses perched on his nose before offering,

"It's almost first light. It's nice to watch the sunrise. Why don't you join me?"

Seunghyun shrugged, he had nothing to lose really, so he followed the kid out the door dressed in pajama pants and ratty old t-shirt.

Joonki lead him to a smooth area of grass, a sort of commons area for their cul-de-sac. He spread out his mat and settled on his knees. 

The sun rose on the horizon and Seunghyun let the color and light bleed over him while Joonki twisted himself into obscene positions next to him. His breathing calming, even. Soothing Seunghyun's frayed nerves.

The next morning Seunghyun joined him again.

And again and again until one day Joonki had a second mat and Seunghyun joined him there, too.

\---

Eventually, work and exercise weren't enough to distract his frazzled brain. New friends could only do so much, even though it was nice to have people in his life who saw him as a person first and an idol second. Regular people who didn't try to give him that understanding look that other idols wanted to share with him. People who liked him for him and wanted to spend time with him, without having known him for years first. It was nice. Refreshing.

But it wasn't enough, and he still woke up some mornings feeling like he was drowning in a pool of his own anxiety.

That was how he ended making music again. When his thoughts got to be too much and he had words he needed to get out, he often framed them in the form of a rap. It was easier for his mind to break down and analyze his own fears when they were thumping through his head in rhythm and verse.

Eventually, he wanted to put those verses to music but he didn't have any tracks to work with on his laptop. He thought about emailing Teddy, asking him to send him some things he'd been working on, but Teddy would tell someone and then everyone would get excited and Seunghyun never intended these words to see the light of day.

Which was how he found himself at the hardware store on base, glaring at the materials he'd need to soundproof his fucking closet.

Donghoon stood next to him, "What are we doing again."

"I'm going to soundproof my closet."

"Okay..."

"For music. I want to maybe work on some tracks? I just need something to hold my attention." He tapped the side of his head, "It gets dark up there sometimes."

Donghoon frowned, "Anything you need to talk about?"

He shook his head, "No."

Donghoon was quiet for a minute before he asked quietly, "Him?'

Him.

Donghoon had picked up his phone the other day to find Jiyong's instagram page open where he'd left it when he went to answer the door.

"Hyung.." He'd said, "You wanna talk about it?'

And Seunghyun had said no. He said no then and he said no again there in the hardware store staring at foam squares of insulation.

But now Donghoon knew. That he and Jiyong weren't nearly as over as Seunghyun had made it seem all those weeks ago in their tent.

And now he wouldn't stop _looking_ at him. Like he was cracked and he was just waiting for him to break the rest of the way.

He was probably right, Seunghyun felt pretty damn cracked.

\---

"We're going off base get off your fucking ass."

Seunghyun groaned into his arms where his head was pillowed against the tiny desk he's shoved into his closet that now held his laptop, and a fairly decent mic and a small soundboard he'd ordered online and had shipped to him, along with the keyboard he'd ordered and was slowly convincing himself how to play. He was an international idol producing in a shoebox. Oh, the irony. Or whatever.

"Where?"

"Noraebang!"

"Fuck. No."

"Soldier up, Sergeant Choi. It's your job. We're taking out the Americans. Gotta show them a good time."

He hadn't been to a noraebang in years. He sat on one of the plush couches, tambourine in hand as Matt bobbed around on the stage to an old Shinhwa song, doing a surprisingly good job of keeping up. The other soldiers cat called him, called him a suck up and a teacher's pet but Matt just smiled and kept singing in his weird American South-accented Korean. It gave a whole new meaning to the term satoori.

Matt finished the song and hopped off the stage. He marched over to Seunghyun and shoved the mic into his hands.

"Sing for me, Superstar!" He laughed, eyes sparkling. Donghoon joined in explaining to the men sitting around him in English that Seunghyun was a performer serving his enlistment. The men eyed him skeptically, and that more than anything had him shuffling up onto stage and flicking through the songs. When he couldn't find the one he was looking for immediately, he got frustrated and just selected the entire BIGBANG tab, flicking through the songs until he found it. He smirked, selecting the song. The opening strains of Doom Dada filled the room, albeit it canned and toned down for noraebang usage.

Needless to say, he wiped the smirks right off their faces. He finished the song to a round of drunken applause and stood there grinning while the system queued up the next song. He kept smiling right up until Who You? started playing, the subdued sound of Jiyong's voice that lingered in the backgroud to guide the singer rushing over him like a blast of scalding water.

Of all the songs, why that song? The song Jiyong wrote for him when he thought Seunghyun was just being stubborn, that he could entice him back if he reminded him of all the good things about them. A romantic gesture disguised in a cute, mildly scathing love song. A show put on for the whole world to see, a box filled with everything Jiyong could cram into it that was irrevocably _them_. Recorded and put on the internet for posterity, so Seunghyun could never deny that he did that for _him_.

Donghoon scrambled for the controls, switching the song to some impossibly bright American pop song. Seunghyun shook his head, like a dog trying to ride its ears of water, before he turned and walked out the door. Donghoon followed him out,

"I'm sorry, I should have been paying attention to what was coming up next. I'm _sorry_ , Seunghyun, are you okay?"

"I-yeah, I'm fine. That song is just... it's personal. It's about me.. for me?"

"Oh shit, really?" Donghoon asked, scrunching up his eyebrows, trying to remember the lyrics. "That's really sweet.. but also he's kind of a dick, like what the hell? Baby I hate you, Baby I love you?"

"Like I said, it's complicated. _We_ were complicated."

"Man, fuck that. You love him!"

"So what?"

"So what?! You _love_ him!"

Seunghyun's eyes darted around the empty street. It was late and there was no one around, so he let himself speak freely.

"It doesn't matter. I broke up with him. He'll never take me back, he _shouldn't_ take me back. I was awful to him. I was awful _for_ him. We were good once, but... not anymore. This is better. This is best. Donghoon, I just want him to be happy? Am I wrong to want that? Is that wrong? When I look at him and I know I'll never be able to make him happy like he deserves, was I wrong to take myself out of the equation?"

He needed someone to tell him he was right, he needed someone to say this was a good thing that he did.

"But if you _love_ him..." Donghoon met his eyes and he must have seen the anguish, the _need_ there because he stopped mid-sentence and then he sighed, "No, you weren't wrong. If you thought you were bad for him, then you made the right choice. I wasn't there, I don't know. But it sounds like you thought about it a lot. But hyung, you can't live like this. Looking through his sns and freaking out when his songs come on the radio. Aren't you going back? Don't you have to work with him? You need to get over him. I know that's easier said then done, but I'm going to help you, alright? I'm going to help."

Is that what he wanted?

To get over Jiyong?

No.

But Donghoon was right, he couldn't live like this.

"Alright. You can help."

\---

"You're moping."

"I'm not moping."

"You're _moping_."

"Fine, I'm moping."

"That's what I thought. Lets go, we're gonna go rent a movie."

This was Donghoon helping. Every time Seunghyun looked like his thoughts were even starting to stray he made him _do_ something.

It was starting to rub off on him, to the point where Seunghyun was actually starting to think he could do this, he could get over Jiyong.

'Doing something' was starting to become second nature to him. When he woke up with that drowning feeling closing in on him he got up. He moved. He made breakfast, showered, went out and ran errands. If he started sinking again, he changed gears. He did something else. Over and over again, he did something else until he forgot why he was even doing something to begin with.

It was like Donghoon said, if he went through the motions, if he _behaved_ like a person who was 'over it', he'd start to _feel_ like a person who was 'over it' , and eventually he'd actually _get over it_.

Get over Jiyong.

All these years he'd been focused on making sure Jiyong was over him, it never occurred to him to try to get over him himself.

On the day he woke for the first time without panic falling down on his head like a guillotine, he was both relieved and sad.

Embracing change. That's what Donghoon said he was doing.

Accepting and moving on.

He got the feeling that Donghoon got most of this crap from an internet 'how to' about break-ups but it was _working_.

Sure, there were still things that reminded him of his relationship with Jiyong. Stupid things, like his favorite brand of preserves, or an ad for that mascara he was a spokes model of for awhile. He wasn't even in the ad, it was a new face, but it still made his chest ache.

"You need to do it."

"I _can't."_

"You need to do it!"

"If I block him the fans will notice. They'll freak out."

"How will they know?"

"Trust me, they'll know."

Donghoon eyed him for a moment and then sighed, "Fine. Don't block him. I guess you can't delete his number, either?"

Seunghyun laughed, though the sound was a bit bitter, "No. Not that it matters, he hasn't tried to contact me in months. Not since the night I left for basic."

"Well that's a good start I guess." Donghoon looked around the room with appraising eyes, locking onto and frowning at the framed pictures on the bedside and dresser. "He's in an awful lot of those.."

Seunghyun gazed at them, "Yeah, I guess he is."

Later that night, as he was scrolling through instagram he came across a group picture Seungri posted of them at a barbeque place they liked to frequent celebrating Daesung's first win for his new comeback. Jiyong sat in between Seungri and a girl he didn't recognize with green hair. The girl had her hand wrapped around his upper arm and her face tucked into his shoulder, face flushed from what he assumed was alcohol as she tried to hide herself from the camera. He frowned, eyeing the space between the two of them before he started to feel ridiculous. Jiyong had lots of female friends. Soo Joo and Chaerin and god knows who else. He went through hangers-on like he went through shoes.

Jiyong updated his own Instagram with a picture of him and Daesung together, Dae's trophy tucked between them like it was their first born child they were showing off. _'Congratulations, Daesungie!'_

He stared at Jiyong's face and felt his heart clench, felt all his progress slipping away. His fingers moved with a mind of there own, hitting the options that allowed him to block Jiyong before he even really thought it through. If the fans noticed, he'd undo it. But right now he needed this. He needed some peace.

When Donghoon came over after work the next day he noticed that all the pictures with Jiyong in them had been replaced with new ones. If he'd bothered to look he would have found them in a box in the bottom drawer of Seunghyun's desk.

\---

 **From: Choi Seunghyun**  
**Sent: 20:00, July 7 2016**

congratulations

the song is amazing

 **From: Dae**  
**Sent: 20:03, July 7 2016**

thank you hyung

we miss you

wish you were here

\---

Things were going good. He'd long since accepted that getting over someone was process. That a lot of the time it hurt and it was exhausting and it was riddled with set backs with no real quick fixes.

It's just that he wasn't expecting such a big set back after so many months of the peace he'd so desperately needed.

It had been almost four months since he'd blocked Jiyong on Instagram. Four months since he decided that this was what he wanted.

It was early, a typical Saturday morning. He didn't have any meetings to attend, no appearances to make. He hadn't planned on getting up for hours yet, but his phone was ringing.

"Hello?"

"Did I wake you?"

"Fucking of course you did."

"Seunghyun? Don't look at your phone. Don't check the news. Just stay in bed. Please. I'm almost to your house. Just wait for me, please."

"What? Why?"

"Just do it, I'm almost there. Bye."

Seunghyun stared at his phone, panic welling up inside his chest. Don't check the news, he'd said.

He checked the news.

**_G-Dragon Dating Up-and-Coming Model Lauren Oh_ **

He stared at the headline in bewilderment.

Who the fuck was Lauren Oh?

With shaking fingers he clicked on the link and read,

_'....spotted out at dinner ...seen leaving his building... in his car... out with his band members...'_

The pictures that accompanied the article were snapshots from what looked like a wedding. Jiyong in one of his smart suits hand in hand with a girl with short dark hair in a lilac cocktail dress. At first he didn't recognize her, but then.. he replaced the inky mass of dark hair with the forest green color from the instagram picture and he _remembered_. Remembered the way her hand had curved around his arm and how she'd hid her face in his shoulder like she belonged there. Were they together back then? Were they just friends? Were they even together now?

There was a video attached to the article and Seunghyun clicked it.

It was obviously filmed by someone who didn't want to be seen, but Jiyong and this girl, this _Lauren,_ were clearly in frame. They swayed together to the music, Jiyong adding the occasional flourish to make her laugh. She leaned towards him, practically rose up on her toes and bumped her nose against his chin. Jiyong said something and she laughed again, and it looked like to her Jiyong created the world. Then he was pulling her close and his lips settled into her hair, fondness leaking from every line of his body and Seunghyun felt like he was going to be _sick_.

He paused the video and stared at the still of the two of them. He was still staring at it when Donghoon opened his bedroom door.

"Joonki let me in- _god damn it, Seunghyun!_ I told you to wait for me!"

"Maybe it's not true."

"Hyung.."

"People make up rumors about every girl he gets close to. They're never true. Maybe it's not true."

Donghoon sank onto the bed next to him. He peered at Seunghyun for a moment before asking,

"Isn't this what you wanted?"

Seunghyun had finally caved a few months back and told him all the awful details. "Yes."

"Then why are you upset? This is what you wanted for him."

"How would you feel if you had to watch that? How would you feel to watch the person you love fall in love with someone else right in front of your very eyes?"

"Seunghyun, you can end this. You have to know he'd take you back. Someone doesn't go through what he went through to be with you and then just doesn't take you back. You can pick up the phone right now and call him and this could be all over..."

"I can't. I can't do that. Do you know what I did to him last time he fell in love? I destroyed it. I had to make sure that it was me and that it was always going to _be_ me. I told you, I'm bad for him." He buried his face in his hands, "Who does something like that to someone they love? What kind of person sees them happy and thinks 'what about me?' I ended it. So it's over."

He wished it was over.

He wished it was as over for him as it was over for Jiyong.

Maybe he missed work on Monday.

Maybe he missed work on Tuesday and Wednesday, too.

Maybe he was too drunk to leave his room.

Maybe Donghoon had to come and pry him out of bed and drag him to sick bay so he wouldn't get reprimanded for Failure to Report or pegged as AWOL.

"I was right..." He slurred against Donghoon's shoulder as he hauled him out of bed and into some fresh clothes.

"About what?'

"That I was standing in his way. I knew if I could get him to let go he'd find what he really wanted. That if he'd just forget about me he'd get his dream..."

"You're an idiot. You don't know that at all."

But he did.

He did know that.

And he had video evidence to prove it in the form of Kwon Jiyong's hands on the small of a pretty girl's back and a smile on his face.

He took a drag from his cigarette, flicking the butt down a storm drain on his way by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: God fucking damn it I'm so fucking sorry asujhsadlfjgbsdagfhdgb
> 
> Right after I posted the last chapter we moved, like, to a whole new freaking town. And then it was my oldest son's birthday. And then my youngest son has been going through an awful sleep regression, probably because of the new house, and he only sleep for like an hour at a time. So I've been beat and I've had to free time to write.
> 
> But here it is. Next chapter will be Jiyong again.
> 
> Hopefully it will make it to you before the two month mark this time gah.
> 
> Lyrics in chapter image from My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark - Fall Out Boy  
> Come see me on tumblr [hoseokie-jung ❤︎](http://hoseokie-jung.tumblr.com/)


	11. ROTA FORTUNAE

 

* * *

 

ROTA FORTUNAE

_[noun]_

also known as the _Wheel of Fortune_ \- a concept in mediaeval and ancient philosophy referring to the capricious nature of Fate. The wheel belongs to the goddess Fortuna, who spins it at random, changing the positions of those on the wheel - some suffer great misfortune, others gain windfalls. Fortune is often but not always, represented as a woman, sometimes blindfolded, “puppeteering” a wheel.

* * *

Music had always been an escape for Jiyong.

When he was young, it was through dance. It seemed strange to family and friends that a boy would get so much joy out of ballet lessons, but his mother refuted them, said it would make him stronger in the end. Even after Little Roo'ra ended and he swore he'd never be a singer again, dance wasn't something he was willing to give up.

There was something undeniably satisfying about dance for him in his youth. Setting himself goals, moves to perfect, combos to memorize, drilling the basics into his head until they flowed from his limbs like water, until they were second nature, and then he pushed himself harder. Music was a living thing for him, something he heard in the sounds coming from busy streets, from anywhere really, that had him swaying to a song in his head that only he could hear.

When he was scouted for his dancing it was like a dream come true. Dreams are easily broken, though. Once he reached his teens and took a look at himself in the mirror, he realized he was 'other'. He wasn't tall enough, handsome enough. If he continued down the path he was on, he'd be a background dancer all his life and even though he'd swore he'd never be a singer again, something about a lifetime in someone else's shadow didn't sit right in his heart.

Music took on a new form for him when he was introduced to rap. Suddenly he had an entirely new way to convey the natural beats and rhythms he heard around him everyday. He never even thought about trying to 'make it big' as a rapper. He was just a kid. Lee Heesung thought otherwise. People's Crew lead to _Hip Hop Flex 2001_ lead to YG Entertainment where suddenly his two halves were made a whole and his life was finally, _finally_ , all about music.

His dance focus switched from ballet and tap to hip hop and suddenly he wasn't just learning to rap but also to sing and he slowly realized that he was _good,_ that this was something he could really, truly do some day. Then there was Youngbae and Hyunseung. Seunghyun, Daesung, and Seungri. And he was going to do it _with_ them. Even if it wasn't exactly what he'd dreamed of, he'd still be doing it.

Music. Music would be his life, and there was nothing he had ever wanted more.

Now, 10 years later, it was still the same.

There was a deep seated ache in his heart, and there was nothing for him to do about it except put it to music.

He couldn't talk to anyone about it, they never understood. Or else they pitied. Tried to _fix_ him. But when he put it to music, people were able to laugh it off. He was being _artistic_. No reason to worry about him, it was just a _song_.

When he'd told Teddy he wanted to comeback by the New Year he'd meant it.

He spent weeks in the studio. He slept in his office. Dami even showed up once or twice to make sure he was there and not dead in a ditch somewhere.

The album he put out ended up being a lot more rock driven than his past albums. He'd gotten into that vibe with the later songs from the MADE album and then again working on Daesung's solo album. He'd composed and mixed so many tracks that he'd never even touched and they were just sitting there, waiting for him to fill them with his words.

Teddy had asked him once what it was like to use the entire nation of Korea as his personal diary and Jiyong had just laughed.

"It fucking sucks, hyung."

When the teasers dropped, he sat on Youngbae's couch and scrolled through the comments on Instagram, Twitter, Youtube...

_'A World Tour!'_

They all seemed so excited about it. Jiyong smiled to himself. He wanted them to be excited, he wanted his fans to be happy.

And he relished the chance to throw himself into everything. The promotions, the planning, the stage crafting and the costumes and the _music_.

"When does the new music video come out?" Youngbae asked, flopping down on the couch next to him.

"Three days." He murmured, smiling softly as the numbers ticked steadily upwards, thousands of likes and comments pouring in. Most of them lamenting the fact that the teaser was mostly shadow and insubstantial imagery. He ran his hands through his hair, smirking to himself, he couldn't reveal his new look so easily, now could he?

When the video finally does come out he reads through the reviews with a wry heart. They praise him for breaking the mould once again, for exploring new sounds, for his edgy, heartbreaking lyrics. He sees more than the occasion joking 'is he okay??' posts, but there's no bite to them. No one really _believes_ he's not okay.

Everyone who knows him knows he's not.

But they don't say anything.

 **From: Youngbae**  
**Sent: 02:13, February 6 2017**

the video looks great

we stayed up to watch the starcast. you look good

 

 **From: Kwon Jiyong**  
**Sent: 02:15, February 6 2017**

thanks

i'm fucking tired at hell

 **From: Youngbae**  
**Sent: 02:18, February 6 2017**

no shit

you made an entire album in six weeks

be careful okay? don't work to hard

try not to die

 **From: Kwon Jiyong**  
**Sent: 02:20, February 6 2017**

i'm not making any promises

\-------

Inkigayo was always one of his favorite programs to go on. They really understood how to stage a performance. Jiyong sat in the stylist chair and watched Ji Eun put the finaly touches on his hair. He'd made a childish, petulant decision when it came to the color. The same dark forest green Lauren had sported when they met. Luckily, the pictures of them together didn't include any of that particular hair style, but he'd already seen a few devote fans make the connection, posting side by side shots of her on the runway and him in the music video. It was actually kind of funny, watching them argue amongst themselves.

_He never confirmed they were dating!_

_They were just friends!_

_Don't make connections where there aren't any, I bet he doesn't even know she ever had her hair that color!_

_That was before they met!_

If he was being honest the song wasn't just about her. It was about everyone. All of them. Everyone who had ever deemed him too difficult to love, to hazardous to be with, too much mess for them to handle. It was about how something in him was toxic, something in him poisoned any chance he had at finding happiness with another human being.

It was about him accepting that, about how he wasn't going to try anymore.

About how he was done doing that to himself.

And he was done. During those coffee and liquor filled hours in the recording studio he'd made a vow to himself, a caffeine addled, alcohol laced vow, but still a _vow_.

A vow that he was done putting himself out there, that his dating days were over.

And he intended to keep it.

\-------

When the interviewer asked him if the song was about anyone in particular he smiled sadly and said it was, but it was more abstract than that. It was for everyone who'd ever had their heart broken over and over again like a song on repeat. The person, the _people_ , who'd inspired the lyrics weren't important. 

They weren't important.

They _weren't_.

\-------

When he stood on his premiere stage, the first concert of his first _real_ world tour all on his own, he felt a stinging pressure behind his eyes and it wasn't until he heard the worried murmurs of the crowd that he realized he'd actually shed a few tears. He'd laughed then and smiled brightly,

"Ah, I'm okay. It's always so much fun to be here with you, but when I'm alone I miss my members. We're all going our separate ways, you know? In the past, even when we were apart we were just a phone call away but some of us... some of us are farther away than others. I miss being on stage with him, uh, _them_."

He'd said more than he'd meant to say, but wasn't that just the story of his life?

\-------

Seoul, Beijing, Hong Kong, Shanghai, Bangkok, Manila, Jakarta.

The venues blurred together. They packed them in, one weekend after another. They'd given everyone the entire month of February to prepare, which wasn't a lot of time, but no one seemed to care. The show was constantly evolving, everyone feeding off of Jiyong's frenetic energy. He bounced ideas off of them, made changes to the choreography, the costumes, and everyone just rolled with it. There was a crazy kind of synergy that he loved, something different from the clear cut concerts of his past.

If he was being honest with himself he was trying to make himself uncomfortable. He no longer head headphones and a volume switch to abuse, so he abused his body instead.

They had a couple more stops to make in South East Asia but he'd made sure to give himself a chunk of time off in April, two full weeks of him catching up on sleep and detoxing everything from his body; all the make-up and hair products and energy drinks and the greasy take-out he'd sent Soonho out to get when he was too tired to leave his hotel room and it was too late to order room service.

He was midway through his first week off and he'd spent the entire day out at a spa with Chaerin. Facials and a generous massage had him feeling boneless and out of it the moment he hit his front door. He'd barely managed to grunt through Dami's bedroom door that he was home and going to sleep, before he was sinking into bed and kissing the world good bye.

As it was, it was four o'clock in the morning and his phone was ringing.

Someone had better be _dead_.

Groggily, he reached out and managed to snatch the offending chunk of technology off it's dock. Jiyong glared blearily at the screen, contacts floating in their solution in the bathroom and reading glasses too far out of his bone weary range of motion. The number looked foreign, too many numbers in too strange an order.

Confusion spiked through his tired brain, and instead of answering it, he ended up staring at the damn thing until it stopped ringing.

It immediately started ringing again.

An uncomfortable feeling crept up his spine and he wracked his brain, trying to remember if anyone he knew was traveling abroad.

Where was Seungri? He couldn't remember. What if something happened to him? He was always off on those trips of his..

Finally, right before it almost kicked over to his voice mail, he answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Jiyong..."

"Lauren?" His over-worked brain sputtered and stalled before he managed a terse "Why are you calling me?"

"I have something to tell you."

He scoffed, "I can assure you, I don't want to hear it."

"Trust me, you do." She sighed. The sound conveyed a tiredness that mirrored his own in a way that gave him pause.

He relented, "You have five minutes and then I'm hanging up."

"I'm pregnant."

He blinked,

"Congratulations?" He didn't understand why she was telling _him_ of all people. Did she think he'd be excited for her?

She sighed again, the kind of exasperated sigh she use to pull on him when he forgot something she'd told him a dozen times before or showed up fifteen minutes late to lunch.

"Yeah. Thanks. You, too."

He blinked again, "Uh.."

What was she congratulating him for? The album? The tour?

"You're such an idiot. Why are you so thick-headed? Aren't you suppose to be some kind of genius or something?" She laughed, that same tinkling laugh that reminded him of glass breaking and made him cringe because it was always a harbinger or something _crazy._ The bitter, tired thread that weaved it's way through the shards was unsettling to say the least. "I'm _pregnant_ , Jiyong. You're going to be a father. _Congratulations_."

Well now he was laughing, too.

"Lauren, I haven't heard from you since _December_. I'm not the one who knocked you up."

He was completely blown away by her words. He never expected something like this from her, of all people. She'd been so adamant about not wanting anything to connect her to him and now _this._ Did she want money? His attention? Was this some kind of desperate bid to get him back? Honestly, he was baffled. She was the one who left. Had she wanted him to chase her? None of this made any sense.

When she didn't say anything he frowned and said, "This isn't funny, Lauren."

"Do you hear me laughing?" She snapped. "I'm dead fucking serious."

He sat lay there for a minute, flat on his back in bed, and let her words sink in. It was kind of like being in a car crash, really, that feeling of shock, of how did this happen to me? Where your brain whirred at full speed, processing everything that happened and trying to make sense of it, and that crazy whirring kept your adrenaline high enough that you couldn't actually _panic_. You just sat there saying 'that happened to me' until you finally accepted it, even though the fear and panic continued to swirl around the edges of your consciousness. The panic would come later in the form of nightmares, ripping your from sleep with a scream in your throat and a cold sweat clinging to your body with a pair of headlights shining in your mind's eye.

Slowly, he made himself speak,

"How long have you known?"

Silence on her end and then,

"It's why I left."

" _What?_ " His jaw dropped. "Why would you leave? Did you think I'd be angry? That I wouldn't, I don't fucking know, fucking _acknowledge_ my own child?" He shook his head in denial, "I'm not that kind of person, Lauren."

"I know _you're_ not. But _I_ am."

"What is that even suppose to _mean_?"

"It means that I didn't _want_ you to acknowledge it. I didn't _want_ to be G-Dragon's 'baby momma'" She spat the words like venom.

He chuckled then, a self-deprecating sound, because _of course._

No one ever wanted what he had to offer.

Why should this be any different?

He sighed, pressing the heel of his hand against his eyes.

"Fine. _Fine_. So why are you telling me now? Do you need money? I'll help you however you need, obviously. YG will probably want a DNA test just to make sure, but-"

"Jiyong, shut up."

He stopped mid-sentence, mouth working in shock before he huffed out, "Don't tell me to _shut up_ -"

"Jiyong. Seriously. Shut up." She laughed and he was honestly so confused, "I know what you're doing. I know what you're _thinking_. I'm not going to sit here and listen to you deflect like the pro you are when I know you're over there wallowing in a pit of your own self-pity. You think it's you I don't want, right? We had that talk. You think that I somehow find you inadequate and unworthy of fathering my child or something equally unflattering to yourself, right? But listen to me when I tell you... _Listen_ to me. It's me. I'm the fuck up in this situation. I'm the one who doesn't belong in this equation. This is not me giving you the 'it's not you, it's me' speech from break-up hell. It's all me. I'm fucked up."

She took a deep, shuddering breath and continued. "Jiyong, you're _perfect_. What more could I want? You're smart, you're funny, you're caring, and _loaded."_ She laughed then and he found himself laughing, too, for some damn reason. "I was lucky to have you. Which is so, _so_ dumb because I didn't _want_ you. You're exciting and crazy and so fun to be around but you don't want to be that forever and I _do_. The thought of being someone's wife, someone's _mother_... of a house with a white picket fence and carpools and dance classes and being in the same place forever and ever... I'd rather die. It makes me want to tear my hair out just thinking about it. And you _want_ that. So much. So that's why I left. I saw that positive on that shitty convenience store pregnancy test and I fucking _bailed_. I saw it and I just _knew_. That you'd be angry at first, but I also knew you'd be excited and you'd want to try to make it work. You'd have wanted us to get married and buy that stupid fucking house and be a family, but you'd have been _miserable_. Because you don't love me and I don't love you and _I don't want any part of a life like that._ So I packed all my shit while you were passed the fuck out and I left like the fucking coward I am. I figured, let me be another sad verse in another hit song. Just so long as I didn't trap you in a box of your own morals."

Jiyong sat there stunned, "Lauren, I-"

"I'm not done yet. I had it all planned out. My parents still think I'm in Korea and they have no idea that any of this is happening. I found a nice Korean couple in New York to adopt the kid. I was going to disappear, get this over with, and then act like it never happened."

At the word adoption, Jiyong's heart clenched. His kid, out there in the world being raised by people he didn't know. Not even knowing Jiyong existed. He opened his mouth to protest, but then she was speaking again, and he reigned in his panic. Let her get it all out, and then he'd say his piece,

"I had it all planned out. Then today I went in for my prenatal appointment and they sent me over to the hospital to do all that anatomy scan stuff. Look at the baby's heart and measure the brain and make sure nothing's wrong, that everything is going okay in there. The lady, she asked me if I wanted to know the sex and I didn't, not really, but for some reason I said yes. Probably because she was looking at me all expectant and how could I say no? So I said yes and she smiled at me and said 'Looks like we have a little girl on the way!' and I just... I saw her in my head with your stupid eyes and your stupid smile and I realized that I couldn't just give her away without giving you a chance to tell me what you wanted. Because she's your _daughter_ and I know that means something to you. And I know I messed up in the head because it honestly doesn't mean _anything_ to me. So what do you want to do, Kwon Jiyong? Because if I'm going to break this couple's hearts and back out of this adoption I need to do it _now._ And if I'm going to come back to Korea I need to do it before they won't let me fly anymore. So just tell me what you want, and I'll do it."

A daughter. His _daughter_.

He had a daughter.

How long had he wanted this? How long had he dreamed about this?

If it wasn't exactly how he'd imagined it.. so what?

He might not ever get another chance.

"Come back to Korea."

"Okay." She said softly, "Just give me a couple of weeks to get everything sorted out on my end. I have to go. We'll talk more later."

When she hung up he threw the covers back and stumbled out of bed. He snatched a pack of cigarettes off the kitchen counter before making his way out into the chilly early morning air of his balcony. It was close to five thirty and the sun was just starting to color the horizon a dull red. He light a cigarette and took a drag, the burn in his lungs grounding him, pulling him back down to Earth in a big way.

That. He just did that. He committed himself to a baby, a _child_. His child. She'd offered him an out but he didn't take it.

Everything was going to be different now. Everything was going to change.

Jiyong dropped the cigarette to the ground, smothering it beneath the sole of his slipper. Might as well kick the habit now.

After all, he was going to be a father.

* * *

a/n: pssssshyhhhhyyyyaahhhhh. There it is, lol. The thing I've been working up to since I thought this fic up so many months ago. Come yell at me on [tumblr](http://kwon-ji-yongie.tumblr.com/) if you want. ;)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so.. there was a comment left accusing me of OC self-inserting to fulfill some sort of convoluted hetero fantasy of being with Jiyong and like… I laughed at first but I’m honestly so upset??
> 
> I spent a lot of time talking the plot of this fic out with people. And while I don't want to spoil anything I feel like this needs to be said since a lot of people are apparently really upset?? :(
> 
> Originally Lauren was just gonna be a faceless nobody that Jiyong hooked up with in a club who sent him a letter explaining what happened. He wasn’t even going to remember that he slept with her.
> 
> But then I had an idea for the last arc of the fic and it’s absolutely essential that they know each other on a personal level for it to work. So she had to be fleshed out a bit more, and in order for the fic to make sense, I had to establish her personality enough for people to understand why she would essentially abandon her own daughter.
> 
> And yeah, I understand this fic has been a drag when it comes to the gtop portion of it, but again, I didn’t want to just have him hop into bed with her, he’s suppose to be in love with Seunghyun. And Seunghyun has two years of military service to complete. I didn’t want the daughter to be two years old when he gets out, I want her to still be small.
> 
> Like I’ve felt kind of bad for the way I’ve treated Lauren?? She’s an oc yeah but basically she’s a trumped up incubator, a means to give Jiyong a baby, ensue single-dad angst, and establish cute gtop baby raising interactions.
> 
> So yeah. Surprise, I guess??
> 
> :(
> 
> -Annie
> 
> also in terms of self-insert I’m more of a Donghoon than a Lauren but it’s whatever
> 
> Lyrics in chapter image from Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes - Fall Out Boy  
> Come see me on tumblr [hoseokie-jung ❤︎](http://hoseokie-jung.tumblr.com/)


	12. INTERLUDE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws this and runs*
> 
> P.S. there is a 1D shaped birthday present for my dear friend everything-korea/thewintergdragon in this chapter. ;)

* * *

 

INTERLUDE 

_ [noun] _

  1. an intervening episode, period, space, etc. 
  2. a short dramatic piece, especially of a light or farcical character, formerly introduced between the parts or acts of miracle and morality plays or given as part of other entertainments. 
  3. one of the early English farces or comedies, as those written by John Heywood, which grew out of such pieces. 
  4. any intermediate performance or entertainment, as between the acts of a play. 
  5. an instrumental passage or a piece of music rendered between the parts of a song, church service, drama, etc. 



_ Etymology _ : from Middle English < Mediaeval Latin  _ interlūdium _ , equivalent to Latin  _ inter _ -, prefix for “between”, “among”, “in the midst of”, “mutually”, “reciprocally”, “together”, “during” +  _ lūd(us) _ , play + - _ ium _ , suffix denoting status.

* * *

"I had the strangest dream about birds last night."

Their mother hummed, sipping her tea as Dami continued.

"I was trying to open up the shop, but there were white doves everywhere. Every time I tried to take a step towards the door to unlock it, they'd would spook and take off and I'd be blinded by a wall of white."

Their mother nodded, reaching across the table to pat her daughter's hand. "That sounds like a _ taemong.  _ You should call Jiwook, maybe his pretty new wife is expecting? Birds usually mean a daughter is on the way." 

Jiyong jerked in his chair, tea sloshing out of his cup to scald his hand.

"Aigoo, son, be  _ careful _ ! Are you still tired? Maybe you should go back to bed.."

\-------

Jiyong's nightmare moment had finally arrived. He awoke from his mother-mandated nap to those metaphorical headlights bearing down on him.

Somehow, he'd managed a solid week of walking around in a haze of not-quite-denial. One superstitious dream from his sister, and reality dialed in with a super sharp clarity. His panic finally made a nice little home for itself in his chest, nestled somewhere between his pounding heart and his wheezing lungs.

There was nothing left in him that wanted to keep acting like this wasn’t happening, anymore. He was tired, had been tired, was going to continue to  _ be  _ tired. 

Throughout most of his life, there had always been one person who stood by him, who believed in him. Even if his tongue could be barbed, his expectation were often too high, and his motives were suspect, Jiyong knew from experience that Yang Hyunsuk would at least hear him out.

That didn’t stop him from being terrified, though.

Hyunsuk was on the phone. A private call about another YG members contract most likely or else Jiyong would have already been in the office making himself at home, instead of sitting in one of the over-stuffed leather chairs outside the CEO's door, gnawing on his fingernails. He felt like a kid waiting to be called into the principal's office.

When his secretary finally waved Jiyong inside, he flashed her a serene smile, but inside he was screaming. He stepped through the ornate doors, shutting them firmly behind him. He clicked the lock into place for good measure.

Hyunsuk stood behind his desk, organizing a stack of papers into a file,

"Jiyong-ah, not that I'm unhappy to see you, but shouldn't you be resting?"

Jiyong stood rooted on the spot, eyes trained on the smooth tile.

"Do you want a beer? I was just getting ready to go down to the cafeteria and grab a late lunch."

Jiyong shook his head, the motion a lot more unstable than he'd like. He cleared his throat and spoke carefully, "No, hyung. Thank you." He cleared his throat again and forced the words from his mouth. Get it over with quickly. Tear it off like a band-aid. "Sajang-nim, I've come first to beg your forgiveness and if you'll allow me, to seek your advice."

It was like all the air in the office had been sucked out, Jiyong found it even more difficult to breathe. Hyunsuk's gaudy dress shoes stepped into his line of vision and a firm hand grasped his shoulder. Hyunsuk gave him a little shake.

"What is it, boy? What have you done?" His tone was sharp, but there was an undercurrent of care and concern there and Jiyong latched onto that, looking up to meet the older man's eyes with panic in his heart. "I can't fix it if you don't tell me what you've done."

He dropped his head back down, eyes screwed shut. "It's Lauren. I...She's... I'm going to be a father."

For one moment Hyunsuk's fingertips dug painfully into his shoulder and then he was stepping away. Jiyong bowed his head even lower. He heard the tinkling of crystal and lifted his head to see Hyunsuk pouring something a bit strong than the previously offered beer into two glasses.

"Sit down, Jiyong-ah." He placed a glass of scotch on the desk in front of Jiyong's usual seat. "We have a lot to discuss."

Jiyong dropped down into the seat, cupping the glass between his palms to keep his hands from shaking.

"How did this happen?"

Jiyong bit back a snort, because how did something like this ever happen? 

"The usual way, I guess."

"Were you not using protection?" 

Jiyong snorted again. He'd sat through enough required YG Trainee 'safe sex or: how not to destroy your career and your company all at once' lectures as a kid, he didn't need to hear it all again. Besides, it was a little late for that. 

"We were. She had one of those," He made a vague gesture at his bicep, "Implant things. In her arm. We usually used condoms, too, but... sometimes if we were... sometimes we forgot." 

"You forgot."

"If we were under the influence.” Jiyong sighed. He raised the tumblr to his nose and room a careful sniff. He winced. “We forgot. We didn't see the point."

"You didn't see the point." Hyunsuk dead panned.

Jiyong took a drink, grimaced at the taste, "We didn't see the point." he repeated, because what else could he say?

"How bad is the damage?” Hyunsuk asked, words careful, “Is there any likelihood of... would she maybe consider.."

Jiyong shook his head, "No.” he said, firmly. “It's a bit late for that, anyway. She's due in three months."

"And you're just now telling me?" The older man’s nostrils flared in irritation. Or maybe it was disappointment. Jiyong couldn't ever really tell. 

" _ She _ just told  _ me _ ."

Hyunsuk sighed, scrubbing his hands across his face.

"So. What does she want? Money? Is she going to talk? We should set up a meeting, discuss things. If she'll keep quiet we can make things nice for her. Set up a trust fund for the kid, make sure they live comfortably, get the kid into good schools." 

Jiyong blinked and Hyunsuk laughed, the sound not at all pleasant, "What? You think you're the first one here to need to hide a mistake like this? Trust me, there's a half-dozen illegitimate YG brats out there living off my checkbook.” Hyunsuk steepled his fingers, took a deep breathe and observed Jiyong over the surface for rh imposing desk between them, eyes shrewd. 

“So, what do  _ you _ want, boy?” he asked finally, “Going to settle down? You could marry her. You've always wanted that; a wife and a kid. We could fudge the kid's birthday a bit. If we wait until they're old enough to announce the birth, no one would be able to tell the difference. It would look like a honeymoon baby.." Hyunsuk sighed, taking in the pinched look on Jiyong's face. "... no, of course you don't want that. That would be too easy. So what? What do you need me to do?"

"She's not keeping her. The baby. Lauren's not keeping her." He twisted the cup in his hands, gathering all his strength. "But I am. I'm keeping her. Hyung, I couldn't stand it. The thought of a piece of me out there, of never knowing her..."

"How? How are you going to raise a baby on your own? Have you thought this through at all?" Hyunsuk snapped, and Jiyong would have laughed, should have laughed, because how many parents around the world at this exact moment were having this exact same conversation with a rebellious teenager? And here he was, an adult just a few months shy of thirty, probably receiving the same lecture as an irresponsible high school senior a few blocks away. 

"I'm a grown man. People my age have children."

"People your age aren't  _ you _ . Listen to me, Jiyong.” Hyunsuk implored, “You don't have to do this. Your sister, a cousin, your parents. They can claim the child. Raise her as their own. You can still be a part of her life. She don't have to know that you're her father. Eunju and I, we could even claim her. No one would be surprised, we've kept children out of the limelight before. You could see her whenever you wanted."

He thought about it. For one moment he thought about letting Hyunsuk and Eunju give his daughter a real family, but then he  _ really _ thought about it. Thought about handing his daughter over to them. Envisioned Eunju walking away with his daughter bundled in her arms and his heart clenched and he knew he couldn't do it. "No. I want this. I want her. I might.. Hyung, this might be my only chance. She's my  _ daughter _ ."

Hyunsuk regarded him for a moment, solemn. "Alright.” He finally said, “ _ Okay _ . It's your life. I'll help you the best that I can, but whatever happens from here on out.. it's on you, son."

"I understand."

\-------

"Hyung?"

"Seungri-yah. I need your help."

"Sure, what's up?"

"Come over, we'll talk about it when you get here."

"Alright, I'm in a meeting right now. I can be there around nine maybe?"

Jiyong exhaled roughly. When he was in work mode he often forgot that other people had their own things going on. When he really thought about it, he was lucky that Seungri was even in the country.

"Yeah, sure. I'll see you then." 

It was just after five in the afternoon, so he had a few hours to kill. He thought about texting Lauren but it was late in New York and besides...she'd asked for him to give her some time. So he made himself a simple meal and settled down to catch up on a few episodes of a drama he's gotten addicted to on tour. Dami came in around seven. He watched her wander around the room, hanging up her hat and tossing her keys into the bowl by the door before she headed into the kitchen. "What, you didn't make any for me?" She called out, banging the empty pot on the stove loudly to punctuate her annoyance.

"It wasn't that great, really, you aren't missing out on anything."

"You're just lazy, you brat. Can't even make your noona a nice dinner every once in awhile."

He smiled softly, lowering the volume so he could hear her better. She plopped down on the couch next to him, a granola bar in hand. "Is that all you're eating."

She patted her flat stomach, "Gotta watch my weight."

He smacked her with a throw pillow. "What weight?"

She shoved him, causing him to slip off the couch and she laughed, "God, what are you? Made of air?"

He laughed too, looking up at her from his sprawled position between the couch and the coffee table.

_ Just tell her.. _

"Noona.."

"Hm?"

"I think I'm gonna look for another place.” He said instead, “Let you have this one. That way you don't have to run off every time I come home..."

She frowned at him. "I don't have to run off. I just like to give you your space. Besides, you already have another place."

"The river flat is more of a... party place. So I don't bother you. It's practically empty. There's no love there. I just... think it'd be good for us to both have our own space. Start making homes for ourselves. Don't worry about the utilities and stuff. I've got that. I'll always have that for you."

She grabbed him by the forearm, dragging him back onto the couch and he settled his head into her lap, looking up into her concerned face. "We have a home. We've made it here with each other. You're my baby brother. I love you.."

"I know, noona. I love you, too. It's not that... I want.. I just really need a fresh start."

Her face softened into something like understanding. "Gee, I wish I had enough money to buy a whole new place every time I had a bad break up."

Her words were teasing, but they still stung, so she ran her fingers through his hair to soothe the pain a bit. "I understand, little brother. If you change your mind I'll be here. In this big apartment. All by myself. Just me and the cat."

He squeaked in protest, "Who says you get to keep the cat?"

"Ai _ loves _ me. Besides, you're not around enough to take care of a cat. You can barely take care of yourself."

He sighed,

"You can keep the cat."

\-------

"You can't tell anyone."

Seungri sat on Jiyong's bed, face a shade of green to match the walls behind him.

" _ Hyung _ ."

"Promise me."

"I'm not going to breathe a word to anyone, holy  _ shit _ ."

"So can you help me find something? I need the works. Underground garage, no ground entry, security checkpoints, cameras, everything. I want to be able to get in and out without anyone who's not suppose to see me, seeing me."

Seungri nodded, already pulling out his phone. "I have a friend who owns a building like that. Everyone who lives there has something to hide. Lovers, kids, marriages. He's an idol's best friend."

Jiyong had a couple of friends who lived in buildings like that. He'd always assumed he'd end up in one eventually especially when he and Seunghyun...

If he ever wanted to get married, he'd have to live in a place like that.

He'd just hoped to avoid it. At least wait until they disbanded and he was living a quieter life. Right now, it felt too much like a prison.

For now, he'd decided to keep his daughter a secret. He didn't trust people. He didn't trust his fans or his antis to respect his privacy. He couldn't expose a baby to that. Where he lived now was too well known. There were always fans waiting outside, following him from place to place.

"He has a place. Penthouse. Couple just moved out last week and he hasn't shown it to anyone yet. Two floors. Five bedrooms, three bath, dining room, family room, den. Ohh, there's a  _ sauna _ .."

"Ri."

"Right, sorry. He says he can show you tomorrow?"

"I'll be there." He confirmed, "Now, I need one more thing."

\-------

_ "We love you!" _

_ "Thank you!" _

_ "G-Dragon! Saranghae!!" _

Jiyong smiled, waving a bit as he walked, stopping to shake a hand here and there and take the occasional picture. It was his last night in Los Angeles and he wanted nothing more than to get to the airport and onto his plane to New York.

He had a week there before his next show on Friday night and all he wanted to do was get it over with. He was landing and falling into his hotel bed to sleep for a solid eighteenish hours and then he was dragging his ass out of bed to meet Lauren. From there he was getting her ready to fly out on a private jet back to Korea where a helicopter would be waiting to fly her directly from the airport to YG headquarters where she would then wait for him to return to Korea before his next legs of shows in Europe. Hyunsuk had pulled more than a few strings to get customs and immigration officials to check her in right there on the tarmac to avoid the media circus that was an international airport. With any luck no one would even know she was back in the country, let alone that she was pregnant.

The airport was crowded and noisy. By the time Soonho ushered him onto the plane and into his seat, all he wanted was a cigarette. Two reasons why  _ that _ wasn't going to happen. Seungho settled down next to him, waving the flight attendant over to order a couple of stout coffees.

"You ready for this?"

Seungho knew, of course he'd told Seungho. "As ready as I'm ever going to be, I'm sure."

“I like Lauren.” Seungho mused. 

“Sure you do. She’s you.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember you knocking me up-”

“Shut  _ up _ .” Jiyong hissed, smacking him across the chest as he glared around at anyone who might be listening. No one was. It wasn’t often he was recognized in the States. First class was comprised of grumpy, middle aged white men and sleek looking women in power suits, whom he was willing to bet not a one of them spoke a single word of Korean. Not really his target audience. They were getting their fair share of dirty looks, though. Him with his green hair and Seungho with his tattoos and piercings. 

“As I was  _ saying _ , I like Lauren. She’s fun. She’s crazy. I miss her.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say to that.” Jiyong groaned into his hands, “How am I even suppose to respond to that?”

“I dunno,  _ fuck _ . Don’t, I guess.”

Jiyong accepted his coffee from the smiling flight attended, a simple English ‘thank you’ directed at her retreating back before he took a long drink of reinvigorating caffeine. 

“Have you heard from Seunghyun?”

Jiyong kinda wished he’d dumped the coffee over his head instead of drinking it.

“No.”

“He called me. Said he’s doing good.  _ Yoga  _ of all things. Can you believe that? They’ve got him flashing those pearly whites at foreigners, trying to butter them up with the movie star-”

“He unfollowed me on Instagram.” Jiyong interrupted, eyes fixed on the opening credits of whatever terrible movie had just started to roll for the ‘passengers’ enjoyment’. 

“Shit, really?” Seungho asked, jaw slack with surprise.

“Yeah.” Jiyong sighed.

“Fuck.” Seungho uttered. 

“Yeah.” Jiyong repeated.

“That’s… You two-I thought.. _ Fuck _ .” Seungho said again, this time with feeling. 

“Yeah.” Jiyong closed his eyes. 

\-------

Jiyong jerked out of his sleep with a rather unflattering snort. 

Soonho stood over him, gently shaking his shoulder. “Staff said she arrived fifteen minutes ago. I had one of our guys do a perimeter check and as far as we can tell, no papz followed her and there are no fans outside. There’s a car waiting out back, we’re ready to go whenever you are.”

“Got it. I’ll meet you downstairs in ten.” 

Soonho gave him a reassuring smile, already on his phone by the time he left the room. 

Jiyong rolled out of bed, stumbled over to the sink to brush his teeth and run a comb through his hair before he shoved a beanie over his ears. He pulled on a pair of jeans and a non-descript t-shirt. He settled a pair of sunglasses over his eyes, trying to decide if a face mask would make him more or less conspicuous on the American streets. In the end he shoved it in his pocket as he slipped his feet into his shoes on the way out the door.

Soonho fell into step next to him in the lobby, directing him through a side door and into the waiting car. They drove through the city to a place called Fascino, an upscale Italian place with a private room they’d rented out for the afternoon.

The hostess greeted them at the door and lead them to their table. As she pushed open the door, Jiyong found himself holding his breathe. 

There she sat, casually scrolling through her phone while she munched on a complementary breadstick. He didn’t know what he’d expected to feel when he saw her… angry, bitter. Maybe even a little bit self-righteous. What he felt instead was relief. 

Relief, and a shit ton of awkward. 

He stepped into the room and offered her a shaky smile when she looked up.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.. We just wanted to be sure-”

“That no one followed you, I know.” She stood up from the table, hands fluttering up to smooth her hair. “I get it.”

He didn’t know what to do with himself. Shake her hand? 

His eyes almost instinctively dropped to her stomach. She was wear a loose dress, fitted at the top, but flowing down around her frame. There was a roundness there, hidden beneath the folds of fabric, but he doubted he would have noticed if he hadn’t known to look for it.

“You can touch; if you want. I’m use to it, all the old aunties want to touch every time they see me.”

He met her eyes and sighed, “How about I just hug you instead?” 

“Yeah, we can do that.” She smiled softly, reassuring.

He opened his arms and she stepped in close. Gently, he wrapped his arms around her. He could feel the firmness of her stomach pressing into his and he tried not to focus on it and instead focused on her.

“I’m sorry…” She whispered into his shoulder. 

He sighed, because what else was he suppose to do? He pressed a kiss against her forehead. 

“You made it right in the end. That’s all that matters.”

“You’re a good liar.” She mumbled into the soft material of his t-shirt.

“I’m a terrible liar. I can’t lie for shit.” He murmured back. 

She pulled away from him, patted him awkwardly on the arm.

“So. Let’s talk about what kind of action movie scenario you have planned to get me out of here.”

\-------

“How long do I have before we need to take off again?” 

Jiyong was grateful for Soonho every day of his life. He wouldn’t even know where most of his clothes were when they were on the road if it wasn’t for Soonho. He’d have to wear the same pair of track pants everyday he wasn’t on stage and then he’d lose his title of ‘fashion icon’ and basically Soonho was the only thing that kept him alive and moving most days.

“You’ve got four days, and then it’s London.”

“Did Seungri get you all the details?”

“Yes, as soon as we get you out of here we’re heading straight over to YG and we’re picking her up. Everything is ready to go, don’t worry.”

“How are we doing this?”

“We’ll let them know when we’re ten minutes out, and they’ll get her in the car. They picked her up from her hotel this morning. Once we get there, we’ll switch vehicles and take off. No one will ever know you’re in there. They’ll think you’re still in the building. It’ll be so fast, they won’t think for a second that it could be you in the second car.”

“God, I hope so.”

“We’ll drive around for a bit to make sure no one is following us.” Soonho promised. 

They stepped out of the terminal into the main body of the airport. The flash of cameras was immediate and he hoped the bags under his eyes weren’t too prominent. He hated to make his fans worry. 

The ride to headquarters was familiar and the transfer from one car to the next in the shadowy garage was quick and efficient. Jiyong slide into the back seat, reaching across to give Lauren’s hand a reassuring squeeze once Soonho motioned for the driver to take off.

“So where are we going? Your place?”

“Your place.”

“I don’t have a place. Hence the hotel.”

“What, you think I’m going to let you stay in a hotel until...until you leave?”

“I never really thought that far ahead.”

“Well I did.”

They spiraled out into the city, taking random turns whenever it suited them until Soonho was satisfied that they weren’t being followed. Eventually, they pulled up outside an apartment building about an hour outside of the city in Ansan. Soonho had them wait a few more minutes to make sure no one approached them, and then he gave them the all clear to exit the vehicle. 

They followed Soonho inside who lead them to an apartment on the second floor. Soonho opened the door and stepped aside. 

“I’ll be out in the car when you’re ready to go.”

Jiyong nodded, turning to Lauren. 

“So. Welcome home.”

Lauren walked around the room, trailing her fingers along the back of the couch and twitching aside the draperies to take in the view outside.

“Why so far out of the city?”

“No one will find you here. No one will be looking for you here. You can move about a bit more freely. You won’t be as trapped. We also found a midwife who runs a birthing center nearby, and she’s very discreet. We figured that would be the best way to go, avoid hospitals. The less people involved the better. You can meet her, of course. I.. wasn’t sure what you’d want to do. My desire to keep things as private as possible shouldn’t be more important than you being comfortable. Her name is Kim Okjin. She’s very good at what she does if the recommendations we received are anything to go by..”

Lauren nodded, “That sounds good. Nice. I was planning on going natural, anyway. Better for the baby. I figured I owed her that much...:”

“Do you… have you been calling her anything? Does she have a name?”

“The couple who were going to adopt her were going to name her Sora and call her Sarah for her English name. I didn’t really like it… how about you, do you have a name picked out?”

“No I.. I haven’t really had much of a chance to think about it.”

“You should. Think about it, I mean. I’m terrible at that kind of thing. I named my kitten Kitty and we had a dog named Pet when I was growing up.”

Jiyong watched her step into the kitchen, open and close the stocked fridge and rifle through the pantry. 

“So what do you think?”

“About what?”

“Here. The apartment.”

“It’s nice. Kind of far away..” 

“I know.. I’m sorry. I’ll try to make it over here whenever I can but I’m still on tour and if I start coming out here all the time people are going to figure it out..”

Lauren laughed, “Yeah, no, I get it. Gotta hide the mistress.”

“Lauren.. This is what you wanted. You said you wanted space and you weren’t looking for a relationship. I’m not trying to hurt you with all this, but I need my space, too.”

“God,  _ god _ , I know. Shut up. You’re right. Stupid hormones. I’m irrational,  _ fuck _ .” She walked down the short hall and yanked the door to the bedroom open. “So what about my stuff? Like my clothes, I mean.”

“All I have to do is call and they’ll send them over.”

“So call.”

“Are you  _ sure _ ? You don’t have to do any of this. You get a say, you know..”

She sat down on the bed, smoothing her hands over the clean duvet. “It’s easier this way. To do what you need. I’m not the one at risk here.”

Jiyong stepped into the room, sank to his knees in front of her and took her hand in his. 

“You’re having my baby. That’s a lot of risk all on it’s own. I want you to be happy. Comfortable.”

Lauren snorted, pulling her hands from his. “I’m not gonna be happy or comfortable until this kid is out of me and I’m twelve thousand kilometers away.” She scooted back on the bed, pulling the duvet back to shimmy underneath it. “I’m really tired.. I’m just gonna take a nap. I’ll see you whenever, I guess. I’ll let you know if my stuff doesn’t show up or something…”

Jiyong stood up, stared at her curled up form under the covers. For a brief moment he considered crawling in there with her, pulling her close and trying to take some of her unhappiness away, but he didn’t really want that. Didn’t want to hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay. Maybe he was being selfish, but he felt like he’d said his share of ‘this is fine’ and now it was her turn. So instead he patted her calf awkwardly,

“I’ll be back tomorrow. We can go see the midwife then.”

He pulled the bedroom door closed behind him, locked the apartment door on the way out, and pretended like he didn’t hear what sounded like a muffled sob coming from inside.

\-------

“You can call me Rosa if it’s easier for you, Miss Lauren.” Okjin smiled, her English was accented but said with confidence. 

“Ahjumma, please, Okjin is more than fine.” Lauren replied in Korean.

Okjin nodded, shuffling papers around on her low desk. The office was beautiful, decorated tastefully with art and educational materials that suited her profession. “Ah, good. I work a lot with foreigners, so I’m very familiar with Western birthing practices. If there’s anything you’d like to include in your birth plan that you’re unsure about, just let me know. I’ll do everything I can to help you.”

Lauren nodded, looking over to meet Jiyong’s eyes and he smiled at her reassuringly over his face mask. He trusted the midwife and her staff, but he couldn’t risk anyone spotting him coming or going from their appointments. In fact, as terrible as it seemed, he was fairly certain this would be the only appointment he ever attended. 

“I had a birth plan but it was written for a hospital setting, should I rewrite it?” 

Jiyong actually had no idea what a birth plan was, but he was too embarrassed to ask, so he resigned himself to googling it when he got home. He didn’t figure he had much of a say in it anyway, whatever it was.

“That would be a good idea, not everything that’s available in a hospital setting is available here at the birth center. The deciding factor for most women is not having access to an anesthesiologist. I can hang intravenous narcotics for pain management but their effects are limited at best and, in my personal experience, most women dislike them and don’t ask for them again after their first dose. So if access to an epidural is a deal breaker for you, then I’m afraid that this isn’t the best place for you to give birth.”

“I was working with a doula in New York before for coaching and pain management… do you have one on staff or do I need to look into hiring one for myself?”

Again, Jiyong had no  _ idea _ what they were talking about and he tried not to frown at the idea of including even more people in this. 

Okjin slid a packet of papers across the desk to Lauren, “You can if you want but as you can see here, I’m a trained doula. I book my clients with a good two weeks between each estimated due date so there’s very little likelihood of overlap. I should without a doubt be able to focus on you completely without any distractions. Of course, if for some reason I have an unexpected delivery to attend to, your partner will know the basics and should be able to help you.”

Jiyong’s eyes widened. He shook his head vigorously, “I’m sorry. I don’t know. I don’t know anything about this. I would be less than useless.”

The midwife took his hand in hers, patted the back of it sympathetically,

“My dear, that’s what the classes are for.”

“Classes?” He repeated dumbly.

“Two of them, at thirty-four and thirty-five weeks. I’ll teach you everything you need to know, don’t worry, I can tell you’re a smart one. You’ll catch on very quickly.”

Jiyong looked into her eyes and had the distinct feeling that she was calming him down in the same way a person would soothe a spooked horse. “I will?”

“Of course you will. 

\-------

The European leg of his tour consisted of London, Paris, Berlin, and Milan and then he had Japan.

London was a vaguely familiar place, not in the same way as Los Angeles and New York and Paris, but still, familiar. There, he felt comfortable enough to go out with a few friends. Seungho and Soonho, with Christina and Soo Joo who both flew over from Paris, took them to a place Bajowoo recommended in Camden Town called The Underworld. 

The vibe in the club was not really Jiyong’s thing but he could see why Bajowoo loved it. The walls were concrete and dark wood, the drinks were draft beers and hastily mixed cocktails, and the smell in the air conditioned basement was a weird combination of musty recycled air and sweaty bodies. At Bajowoo suggestion, they’d gotten there early to get a spot at the railing of the balcony overlooking the floor below. The DJ was playing a mix of alternative rock, indie, and punk. Flyers on the walls announced that a band called Off With Their Heads was going to be taking the stage before too long. Jiyong was already three beers in, watching Soo Joo and Christina giggle and grind on each other to completely ill suited music with a tiny smile on his face. 

Painted faces swirled around him, thick smears of eyeliner and blood red lips regardless of gender. Leather and smoke and t-shirts for too many bands to count. He felt out of place in his white Rick Owens fields jacket and he kind of wished he’d snagged one of En Noir pieces from wardrobe so he wouldn’t stick out so badly, but then again, what was sticking out to him? 

The club owner clambered up onto stage to announce the band in an accent so thick Jiyong could barely make out the words, but the band themselves sang in clear American accents to a guitar heavy punk set so it wasn’t such a bad experience overall. The roar of the audience was soothing in a way, a lot less shrill than what he was personally use to. 

A body pushed its way up to the railing, leaning against the metal bars in the spot previously occupied by Seungho who’d gone with Soonho to get them another round of beers. Jiyong spared the newcomer a quick glance. He doubted he’d be recognized in a place like this, but still. 

He paused. 

“Nice jacket..” He raised his voice to be heard over the music, “Saint Laurent? I have the same one.” The silky powder blue combined with an animal print was hard to miss. If he’d felt out of place before, it was nothing compared to this guy. 

The guy tensed, glanced at him in the same way Jiyong had glanced at him. A fleet look out of the corner of his eye. He did a double take, a bit of the tension ebbing from his shoulders and maybe a tiny bit of recognition flashing in his eyes. 

Eyes, Jiyong’s mildly drunken brain told him, that were a very pretty shade of green. His hand reached up to comb through his hair, a gesture Jiyong recognized as belonging to someone who use to have much longer hair and whose brain hadn’t quite gotten use to the change yet. 

“Do you? It’s a nice piece. It pairs well.” He replied in a raspy voice.

Jiyong nodded, “Photographs well, too.” 

“Really? I’ll have to try that out for myself.” 

He was leaning on the railing, forearms pressed against it with a beer bottle hanging from between his fingers. Long legs clad in denim, Jiyong could tell just from a quick once over that he was probably taller than him. 

The man turned, resting the small of his back against the metal as he took a quick swig from the bottle in his hand. Jiyong had played this game enough times to notice the sweep of the man’s eyes as he brought the bottle back down. He nodded down at Jiyong’s own hands. 

“I like your tattoo. Kind of funny, I have one in almost the exact same place.”

Jiyong glanced down at the smiley face on his hand, and then at the man’s hands were a tiny cross was inked. “What a coincidence. It must be fate.”

His drunk brain was vaguely aware that this was flirting, he was  _ flirting _ and he had a self-imposed ban on all thing romance and trying to pick up a guy in a place like this was just begging to get his ass kicked, but the guy was smiling at him and he had  _ dimples _ and Jiyong had always been a sucker for dimples.

“Got any more?” The man was asking, inching closer to Jiyong like a kid overly excited for a bit of show and tell. “Tattoos, I mean.”

“A few.”

“How many is a few?”

“Twenty, if you count all the pieces.”

“That’s cute. You’re practically a virgin.”

Jiyong snorted. “How many have you got?”

The man flashed him another dimpled grin, leaning in close enough that Jiyong caught a whiff of the brew on his breath, “Sixty-two.”

Jiyong laughed, “Holy shit, my mother would kill me.”

The man laughed, “It’s more like fifty-eight, I’ve had a few covered. But it’s more fun to see the look on people’s faces when I say sixty-two.” He took another drink and Jiyong took one, too, mirroring him. “So… where are you from? Obviously not here.”

“Korea.”

“Just visiting? Taking a few vacation days?”

“Work, actually.”

“Mm.” He hummed by way of response. Jiyong was surprised when he didn’t really press the issue, ask him about his job. “Show me your ink. It’ll be fun. You show me, I’ll show you.”

Jiyong considered it for a moment before nodding, shoving up the sleeves of his jacket to expose his forearms. 

“Is that Keith Haring?” The man said, nodding at the heart on his forearm as he shoved his own sleeve up.

They spent a good fifteen minutes showing off their body art, the man got a bit daring, pulling down the collar of his shirt to show him the swallows etched below his clavicles and lifting up the hem of his shirt to give Jiyong a glimpse of the fern leaves tattooed there. Jiyong shrugged off his jacket to let him have a look at his angel and they shared a good laugh and a bit of a bonding moment over his dragonball tattoo. 

It wasn’t long before Jiyong realized just how close they were standing. The man’s eyes dropped down to his lips and Jiyong found himself doing the same. 

“You maybe want to get out of here?” The man asked, “Find somewhere quieter? Maybe get something to eat?”

He thought about it. He really, truly thought about it. The kid was nice, and he  _ was _ a kid, Jiyong had discovered. Jiyong had a good six years on him, but who was counting? And Jiyong was more than ready to free himself from the shackles of his self-imposed celibacy. He  _ liked _ sex. He was more than capable of admitting that sex was something he probably thought about way too much. And the kid was gorgeous, and obviously interested. His poor, inebriated brain was nudging him, telling him to go for it.

But when he really, really thought about it, he just didn’t have the energy. His brain and his dick might have agreed that this was an opportunity he shouldn’t pass up, but his heart’s tiny broken whispers won out in the end. 

Not today.

Not tonight.

Not right now.

Not yet.

“I’m sorry, I’m here with friends.. We don’t get a lot of time to just hang out like this…”

The younger man smiled. “That’s cool, I understand. Between you and me, I shouldn’t be doing this anyway.. I have someone, even if he doesn’t see it that way.”

Jiyong gave him a rueful smile, “I know what you mean.”

“It was nice meeting you, though. You take care.”

He stepped away from the railing, moved with the flow of the crowd toward the stairs leading up to street level. No sooner had he gone, did Soo Joo and Christina slide up on either side of him. Christina grasped his elbow and squeaked out a breathless,

“Oh my god!”

“What?” Jiyong laughed, looking between the two of them.

“Do you know who that was?” Soo Joo asked, a look of amused disbelief on her face.

“No? I-Should I have? Who was he?”

“Dude, was that Harry Styles?” Seungho asked, finally sliding back up to the railing with a fresh selection of drinks.

“What? No it wasn’t.”

“It was, I talked to his manager over at the bar.” Soonho piped up, sipping at his own cocktail.

“You totally flirted with Harry Styles. For like half an hour. Holy hell.” Christina was giggling, maybe a bit starstruck.

Jiyong looked back towards the stairs, could just see the back of the man’s head as it disappeared through the door.

“Small fucking world.”

\-------

“Where are you tonight?” 

“We’re waiting to board our flight. They had to reroute us to Bologna. Unexpected weather or something.”

“How long have you been waiting?” Lauren asked.

“Three hours, so far. Which is ridiculous for a little rain.” He snarked, tired and more than a bit irritated.

“I don’t think that’s fair. The airport is just doing it’s job. What might be ‘a little rain’ to you could be something else entirely to them.”

Jiyong sighed, “I know, I know that. I just.. I’ve never worked at this venue before. I need to get on that stage and this is just  _ eating  _ into my time. Enough, though, enough about airports and rain and Italy. How are you? How are you feeling?”

Lauren returned his sigh, “Fat. Tired. Swollen. Hungry. Take your pick. Lonely would be a good one, too.”

“I have two weeks free after this weekend before I have to head over to Japan. And I’ll be back during the week. We’re suppose to start seeing Okjin for our classes soon, right?”

“Next Wednesday is our first class, yeah.” Lauren affirmed. She paused, like she was considering something and then said carefully “I was thinking about maybe asking Seulki out for lunch? We'd go somewhere private, of course-”

“Lauren-” he started to speak over her, but she just kept going.

“-there's this nice little noodle shop over on the corner. Barely enough room for six people inside. I order in from there all the time, the food is great.”

“ _ Lauren _ .” He started again.

“I'm lonely, Jiyong.” She cried, “I'm  _ bored _ . I haven't left the house for anything more than a quick walk to the convenience store in  _ weeks _ . I need human contact or I'm gonna go crazy.” He tried not to flinch at the way her voice cracked.

“Okay.  _ Okay. _ ” He breathed. “Don’t call Seulki. I’ll take care of it, I promise.”

\---

“Noona..” Jiyong called, rapping his knuckles on the doorway. When she didn't answer he poked his head farther in the backroom, the scent of new fabric and cardboard dust tickling his nose, making him want to sneeze. “Yah! Kwon Dami!”

“Back here, my most precious dongsaeng!” She trilled, he heard the unmistakable  _ thwap _ of a heavy cardboard box hitting the concrete flooring and he followed the sound, weaving his way between the stuffed racks and trolleys of merchandise. 

He found her, her tiny frame practice upside down inside a large, freshly opened box, her toes just skimming the floor as she struggled to reach the last couple of items at the bottom. She emerged triumphant, blowing her bangs out of her face with a grin. Dami brandished the phone case at him, still wrapped in its protective plastic. 

“So what do you think? Wanna do some free advertising for me?” She ripped the plastic off, tossing the case to him. It was black leather, shaped like a small hand gun, covered in rhinestones. He snorted, pulling his phone from his pocket. He took his old case off, slipping his phone into the new one. 

“Satisfied?” He asked, turning his phone this way and that to admire how the light played off the faux gems.

“Very.” She smirked, swiping his old case off the top of a box where he'd lain it. “Now I can sell this one on eBay.” She winked, tucking it into the pocket of her skirt. 

He rolled his eyes, leaning a hip against a tower of merchandise as she threw a last armful of the new phone cases into the cart she was loading.

“So to what do I owe this visit? And the mess of girls I'm sure is crowded around your car out front snapping pictures at this very moment.”

“Noona, I need to tell you something. And ask you a favor, too.” He said, words coming out much more gravely than he'd intended. 

Dami’s focus shifted to him immediately, she stepped closer to him, looking up at his face with that same terribly concerned twist of her eyebrow their mother possessed. 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” She cooed, a hand coming up to cup his cheek, searching his eyes like she might be able to read what he was about to tell her written there in the brown of his irises. 

“Don't be sad, noona, it's a happy thing.” He said, reaching up to grip her hand still resting on his cheek. “How do you feel about being an auntie?”

“Oh,  _ Jiyong. _ ” She gasped, yanking her hand to her chest as she stared up at him in surprise. “Baby, what did you  _ do. _ ”

He told her everything. 

They sat in the backroom of Rare Market, on the dusty, glitter covered floor, silence filling the void left by Jiyong’s words.

“This is why you’re moving out, isn’t it?” Dami said eventually. She was leaning back against the concrete wall, her feet pillowed in his lap, his fingers idly massaging the arches of her feet. He nodded, increasing the pressure of his fingers as he reached her heel.

She kicked him lightly, and he yelped. 

“You’re such an idiot, why would you do that?” She frowned at him. “I can help you, you know. I would help you.”

“I know, noona. I don’t want your help.” Jiyong looked up in time to catch the slightly offended look that flickered across her face. 

“Not like that!” he amended quickly, “I mean, I don’t want to you to have to do that. You have a life. Friends. This place. You’re not ready to be anyone’s mom.”

“I wouldn’t be her mom-” She started, glaring at him with the force of a train barreling down the tracks, whistle blaring, and he headed her off at the pass. 

“No, but you might as well be. Living with us, taking care of her when I was busy. I know you, Dami-yah, you’d feel responsible. You’d never let me hire a nanny or even hire a sitter for an evening out. You’d want to do it all yourself because you’re gonna love her. You’re gonna love her so much. You’re gonna be a great aunt and I’m not gonna let you make those kinds of changes to your life. Not when I know for a fact you didn’t plan on making them for a long while yet.” He patted her calf, “This is my life, noona, my family. I’m going to take care of her. I’m her father.”

Dami stared at him, her eyes wet and she looked  _ proud. _

“Ah, my baby brother, you’ve grown up.” She cooed, the sound a bit nasal with the tears he could see pooling in the corners of her eyes. He sighed and grabbed her by the wrist, hauling her close. He pressed a kiss to her hair as she sniffled against the shoulder of his jacket. 

“Jiyongie..” She whispered, several minutes later. “I didn’t mean it. What I said about the cat. You can take him, I know you won’t, like, neglect him or anything. I was just teasing…” She said, her voice rising in pitch as she quickly realized just exactly what she’d implied all those weeks ago. 

He laughed. 

“It’s alright, noona. Please keep the cat. He loves you more anyway. And I don’t want you to be lonely…”

“I’m going to  _ miss _ you.” Dami sniffed.

“I’m barely around as it is. How could you possibly miss me?”

“I always miss you when you’re gone. Now, I’m just going to miss you more.”

\------

“A deep breath in through your nose, and blow it out your mouth.” Okjin said, her voice calm and soothing as she sat on the floor in front of Lauren. Lauren closed her eyes, sucking in a deep breath, chest expanding, shoulders rising, the swell of her pregnant belly shifting, before blowing it out; strong and slow. 

“You, too, Mr. Kwon.” Okjin scolded gently. Jiyong snapped out of his daze, one in which he’s been staring at a terribly detailed diagram of just how exactly the cervix was meant to dilate, shift, and thin to accommodate something around the size of a decently ripe coconut. At least a baby’s head was slightly more forgiving than a coconut. He was assuming. It wasn’t like he’d actually know or anything.

He coughed. 

“Right.” He said, a bit sullen.

This time when Lauren took a breath, he breathed with her. Sucking air into his lungs and pushing it out, surprised at the rush of endorphins the sudden influx of oxygen provided him with. 

“It’s important that the breathing comes naturally to you, too, Jiyong-ssi.” Okjin said, voice still low and calm as Jiyong and Lauren continued to breath in long, steady ebbs and flows. “There will come a time in labor that Lauren won’t remember how to breathe and she’s going to rely on you to remind her. You have to know how to keep breathing, because when you breathe, she will breathe. And when she breathes, the baby breathes. Everything is connected, yes?”

Jiyong frowned, the inside of his nose and throat starting to burn from all the cold air rushing in and out. All of this was much more… involved than television and movies lead him to believe. Lauren relying on him was scary to say the least. They continued to sit there, _ breathing _ , for another good ten or so minutes until Jiyong realized with a jolt that he’d stopped actively thinking about the pattern of his breath and he was just, you know,  _ doing _ it. He looked up at Okjin in surprise and caught her giving him a small knowing smile.

“I think we are ready to move on. Miss Lauren, come over here.” She rolled a large inflatable ball, like the ones they had at the gym, over into the middle of her office floor. “Take a seat.” 

Jiyong stood up, taking a moment to stretch the aches and pains out of his back and legs before reaching down to haul Lauren up off the floor. She grunted as she came to her feet, fixing him with a sheepish smile. “Thanks..” she murmured. 

“No problem.” He shrugged. He was kind of over this. The weird, stilted way they navigated around each other. Thanking each other and apologizing to each other for things that a normal couple having a baby wouldn’t even be batting at eye at. 

Except they weren’t a couple. And they weren’t ‘having a baby’. She was handing him the kid and walking, and then he would be alone.

Lauren shuffled across the floor on swollen ankles, Okjin taking her hands firmly and helping her settle on the exercise ball, guiding her to place her feet wide, talking all the while about proper posturing keeping her pelvis open and allowing the baby space to drop down and help things along in labor. Jiyong stood awkwardly off to the side, unsure as to his role in all this… ball sitting.

Okjin fixed him with another knowing smile, rolling her desk chair over in front of Lauren, gesturing for Jiyong to sit down. He dropped into the chair, graceless and all limbs. Lauren rolled her eyes at him, fond. He gave her a tiny smile, and then listened as Okjin instructed her to lean forward and rest her forehead against his thigh. Jiyong started a bit, cheeks flaring up at the compromising position and this time he could have sworn he caught Okjin chuckling. The midwife began to explain a technique called counter pressure, something about pushing back against the uterus during contractions as a natural form of pain management during labor. He watched her place her hands firmly over the swell of Lauren’s hips and push, squeezing her hips as Lauren and himself continued the breathing exercise from earlier. 

“Now you try.” Okjin said, rising from her kneeling position on the floor behind Lauren. 

Jiyong gawked at her. 

“Why?”

“I might have to leave the room.” Okjin replied, giving him a small wink. “You need to know how to do these things, in case I’m not around.”

Jiyong looked down at Lauren, resting her head in his lap, and caught sight of the tips of her ears burning red. At least he wasn’t the only one embarrassed by this whole situation. 

With a deep sigh, he clambered out of the chair and slide onto the floor behind Lauren. Cautiously, he reached out and cupped his hands around her hips. Okjin tutted, rearranging his hands so that the heel of his palm rested flat on either side of Lauren’s spine, fingers curling around the jut of her hip bones. 

Tentatively, he applied a bit off pressure. Okjin pressed firm fingers high up on the middle of his back, telling him to engage those muscle, not to only rely on the strength in his arms. His hands lost purchase on Lauren, slipping in the folds of her blouse and Okjin clucked disapprovingly, rucking up the back of Lauren’s shirt before repositioning his hands on her bare skin. Jiyong’s whole self was on fire, mortified, flushed with pure disbelief. This was the most he’d touched Lauren since the night she left him drunk and drugged in his bed. 

An ugly feeling curled in his gut and he let go, standing up. He shoved a hand through his hair, feigned checking his watch, and made some sort of hurried excuse about needing to go to his next appointment. Like this was just a stop in his day to day schedule. Like he hadn’t been planning on spending the rest of the day with Lauren in some kind of guilt-induced attempt at staving off her loneliness. 

Dami had agreed to come out to Ansan and spend time with her, but he still felt responsible. He  _ was _ responsible. And honestly, he didn’t really trust Dami to be the nicest to Lauren. After all, she did walk out on him and he’d been a mess for weeks after.

He grabbed his things, hurriedly bowed to the midwife, and headed out of her office towards the main part of the clinic. He heard the door open and close behind him and turned to see Lauren hurrying, as fast as her waddle would allow her to, up the hall towards him. 

“Jiyong, wait!” She hissed, huffing and puffing to a stop next to him and damn if he didn’t feel like a jerk for making a pregnant woman run. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I know it’s awkward. Y-You don’t have to do any of that stuff. That’s what Okjin is for. She just wants us to bond or something, I don’t know. It’s what normal people do. I know we’re not normal but she’s the Grand Midwife and she’s not deviating from the script-” 

“I get it.” He cut her off, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets and avoiding her eyes, instead choosing to look at a spot somewhere over her left shoulder. There was a little green light blinking on the automatic hand sanitizer dispenser fastened to the wall and he wondered if that meant it was almost out or something. “It’s just weird, you know? We’re not.. We don’t even, like, hug. It’s weird, touching you like that.”

“It’s for the baby…”

“Yeah, but she’s not here. It’s hard to remember that.”

“Do you want to feel her?” Lauren asked, rubbing a hand gently over the swell of her belly.

Jiyong blinked, looking around the hallway. 

“What, here?” He asked, because  _ yes _ he wanted to touch. He wanted to feel her kick, see the tiny movements and talk to her, like any other expectant father. He just didn’t know that he was allowed to. Seeing as how the body she currently inhabited belonged to his ex-whatever-she-was.

Lauren looked around them, before stepping to a door and peering through a window at the empty exam room on the other side. She yanked the door open and pulled him inside. The door clicked closed behind them and Lauren turned leaning her back against it with a tired sigh. She reached out and grabbed him by the wrist guiding his hand to her stomach; pausing and releasing him just before he made contact, letting him move the last few centimeters all on his own.

“She’s really active right now. My jog down the hall must have woken her up.” 

Jiyong hesitated for just a moment before he pressed his hand against her stomach. He waited a moment, floundered when he didn’t feel anything, was just about to pull his hand away when he felt it. 

A tiny thump, at first, like when Ai batted at him with his paw. Gentle, fast, and fleeting. He actually wasn’t even sure if that was what he really felt at first and he almost opened his mouth to say so when he felt it again, only this time the kick thumped against his palm almost insistently. Like she knew he was there. Like she wanted him to be sure.

He gasped, throat and nose raw from all the breathing, stinging for an entirely new reason now.

Jiyong dropped down to his knees, cupped his hands around Lauren’s stomach and she laughed softly. He pressed his ear to her belly and laughed when the baby kicked his cheek.

“Hi baby,” He whispered, “I’m your Appa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yeah anyway this was suppose to be like twice as long, but yeah. here this is. say words and stuff, I guess. :)
> 
> \- Annie
> 
> Lyrics in chapter image from A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More 'Touch Me' - Fall Out Boy  
> Come see me on tumblr [hoseokie-jung ❤︎](http://hoseokie-jung.tumblr.com/)


End file.
